The Essence of You
by The Island Hopper
Summary: As Natalie's imaginary friend, Fred is still up to his old hijinks. But Lizzie is never far away - from Natalie, or from Fred's mind. In fact, it's going to get him - and Lizzie, too - in a hell of a lot of trouble. In-progress. Slow burn. Updated whenever the muse strikes me.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Are these yours or mine?"

Elizabeth looked up from where she hovered over a pile of books, the dog-eared copy of a Stephen King novel still clutched in her hands as she tried to remember whether it was hers or Mickey's, and caught sight of Mickey standing over her holding a set of light blue bed sheets. She bit her lip and shrugged.

"I can't remember," she murmured apologetically. "Just go ahead and keep them."

"But you'll need bed sheets at your...your..." His breath caught in his throat for a moment, and his eyes fell to the floor. "...uh, at your new apartment."

She quickly averted her eyes, squinting slightly and trying to focus on the book cover in front of her, if only to keep the tears from welling up as they already had a half-dozen times that day. The separation of belongings, a ritual of break-ups since time immemorial, was no less difficult when it wasn't even really a break-up.

At least that's what she kept trying to tell herself.

With a sigh, she rose and dropped the book back onto Mickey's pile and excused herself to the restroom. She knew this was just as difficult for him as it was for her, a stabilizing thought she tried to keep at the forefront of her mind as she splashed cool water on her face in the sink. Today was an anniversary of sorts, an anniversary of several disparate but connected events in her life, and as with any anniversary, the day had become a time of reflection.

It was eighteen months to the day since she had ordered Charles, her then-husband, out of her life. Eighteen months to the day since she'd last seen her childhood imaginary friend, Drop Dead Fred, as he'd guided her to more self-understanding in a week than she'd experienced in her entire adult life. Six months later – a year ago today exactly – the lease expired on the apartment she'd moved into after leaving Charles and she'd moved in with Mickey, another childhood friend, albeit a real person and something much more than a friend. Twelve months later – again, to the day – she was moving out. Leaving. The lease on a new apartment had just been signed that morning, the shiny silver keys dropped into her palm by a smiling leasing agent, and that afternoon a couch and mattress had been delivered to the empty apartment awaiting her.

Now all that was left to do was separate she and Mickey's belongings.

The divorce from Charles had been finalized several months ago, leaving her free to do whatever she pleased, and at the time, what pleased her was living with Mickey and beginning to build a life with he and his daughter Natalie. It was exciting to fall in love all over again, and this time to fall in love with a man who loved her for exactly who she had become – herself. But cracks had been evident right from the start.

"Listen, are you sure you don't want to give this just a few more days?" a soft voice called through the bathroom door. Elizabeth slowly dried her face on a hand towel before opening the door to find Mickey's drawn face behind it.

"A few more days won't change anything," she answered just as softly. "For now, I think this is the best thing we can do."

"But..." Mickey heaved a small sigh. "Look, things have been going good at the counseling sessions, right?" A note of pleading entered his tone. "Lizzie, we can overcome whatever problems we have. I know we can. I just think you moving out isn't the right decision. For you, for me, or for Nat."

"We've talked about this over and over again," she replied, looking down at her hands. "We both need some space." Mickey opened his mouth to respond and before he could, she continued, "Mickey, listen. We both moved so quickly into this relationship. Think about it. You had just gotten divorced, I was just about to get divorced. We – we didn't even take any time to just breathe before we both jumped in head-first."

"Because I knew exactly what I wanted!" Mickey burst, clasping her shoulders. "And it was you. I wanted you, Lizzie. And at least at one time, I know you wanted me, too."

"I still do," she said, not looking into his eyes. "I just need some time and space, Mickey. We both do. This isn't – this isn't a break-up, ok?"

"It sure as hell feels like it," Mickey muttered, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest.

They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, when a thump from the room behind them caused them both to turn. A streak of blonde hair disappeared from the room, and both of the adults smiled a little.

"Guess no conversation in this house is entirely private," Mickey mused with a small chuckle. His smile faded and he looked back to Elizabeth. "She's really going to miss you, Lizzie."

"I'll still be around," she said, her smile broadening a little. "You two can't be rid of me that quickly."

* * *

"I got them, Fred!" Natalie crowed as she burst into her bedroom and swiftly slammed the door behind her. Glancing around the room and finding it empty, she again called, "Fred? Where did you go?"

"I do have other places to be, you know!" came the nasally reply as a form dressed in green and crowned with fiery orange hair reappeared in the corner of her room. "I can't be hanging around here all day!"

"Why not?" the little girl earnestly demanded. "You're my friend!"

"As if I could ever forget that, Buttbreath," Fred said, giving her a light noogie. He noticed the bundle in her arms. "What's that? Are we making a rope ladder to climb out the window?" he asked excitedly.

Natalie looked down at the clump of bed sheets clutched to her chest. "No, I think they're Lizzie's." Her face tightened. "She can't leave without her bed sheets, so if we hide them, she won't be able to leave."

Fred hesitated for only a moment before bursting, "Oh, let the dumb old Snotface leave! Who cares? We don't need her to have a good time, do we, Buttbreath?"

Natalie didn't respond and instead sat on her bed, her eyes not leaving the sheets. "But I don't want her to go, Fred," she whispered.

"She's not really going!" Fred protested. "Like we'd ever get that lucky! You just wait, she'll be 'round here every day, telling us Oi! You can't set the drapes on fire! Or Hey, don't play in the oven! She'll still be around to ruin all our fun, just you wait and see!"

When this didn't have the desired effect, Fred dropped down next to his charge on the bed, throwing an arm around her.

"Buttbreath?" he said softly. "Come on, don't go silent on me! You know I hate that bollocks!"

"I don't want her to go," Natalie repeated in a quiet voice, hugging the sheets snugly. "Mama said she'd come back when she left, and she didn't. Not once. So what if Lizzie leaves and never comes back? And what if she's leaving because of me?" Natalie's voice was becoming decidedly throatier as tears began to brim in her eyes. "I'm always causing trouble. Maybe that's why Mama never came back either."

"Hey, hey, hey! Listen, you!" Fred pulled Natalie onto his lap, wrapping both arms around her. "Firstly, Snotface isn't anything like your mother. She's all right. For a grown-up, anyway. Secondly, she's not leaving because of you, just like your mother didn't leave because of you. That's a load of horseshit. You're awesome. You're fantastic. You're my best pal, and Drop Dead Fred isn't pals with just any stupid git off the street. You know that, don't you, Buttbreath?"

Before she could respond, the door creaked open and Mickey's face peeked into the room to find his daughter curled up on the bed clutching the light blue sheets in her arms. She looked up at him, her face wet. "Daddy?" she said. "Does Lizzie really have to go?"

Mickey closed the door quietly behind him and laid on the bed next to Natalie. "Lizzie needs some time to figure things out, Nat, but she'll still be around. You'll still see her all the time."

"That's what you said about Mama," she murmured into her father's chest. "And then she moved to New Mexico and I haven't seen her since last Christmas."

Mickey's heart sunk. "I know that, sweetheart, and I'm sorry. Your mom – well, she just needed some distance. It isn't your fault."

"That's what Fred said," she said. Looking around, she discovered that Fred had again disappeared. "Fred?" she called in confusion.

Fred, however, was no longer in Natalie's bedroom and was instead sitting on top of the dresser in the bedroom where Elizabeth was silently folding clothes and laying them in a suitcase. Though his former charge could neither see nor hear him, Fred often found that a one-sided conversation was cathartic, at least for him.

"She's in there crying her eyes out, Snotface!" Fred spat. "D'you know what it's like for that kid to lose a mum and then lose the second-closest thing to a mum inside of a year? Cor, no wonder I'm still assigned to her!" He sighed dramatically. "At this rate I'll be here 'til she's twenty!"

Elizabeth's ears perked and she glanced behind her, almost certain that she'd heard something. Seeing the room was empty, she turned back to her packing.

"And that's nothing compared to what it'll be like having Fartpants moanin' and groanin' around the house once you leave!" Fred continued to bellow, now pacing behind Elizabeth. "God, he's already completely intolerable, but just wait until he's single! Christ, it'll be unadulterated torture! Bet he'll spend every night in this bed just crying and whinging. 'Oh Lizzie! Oh I miss your stupid, ugly face! Oh, oh! Let me just cry into this pillow like a complete girl every day and night!'" Fred scoffed and threw himself into the easy chair in the corner. "And since you can't hear me, I can admit that the only thing that makes this place even slightly interesting is you." After a beat, he sneered halfheartedly. "But not because I like you, you turd, but because it's so much fun to needle you. Buttbreath is a good kid, but she doesn't have the imagination that you did, Snotface."

From the cabinet under the bed stand, Elizabeth withdrew a small, faded jack-in-the-box and smiled.

"Kept that, did you?" Fred said, but his tone sounded softer than he would have preferred, making him glad Elizabeth couldn't hear him. "Typical. Sentimental ol' Snotface."

She reverently placed it in the box containing a few books and other small articles, then set the box gently on the bed, touching the jack-in-the-box gently with a small sigh. "I miss you, Fred," she said in a near-whisper.

Fred sat silently, his arms crossed over his chest. After a moment, his face slackened a bit and he whispered, "Miss you too, Snotface."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The only lighting in the new apartment consisted of the harsh overhead lights typical of every small apartment in the city, casting a bright electric glow over everything in the bedroom as Elizabeth made the bed with the sheets she had purchased on her way there that night. The scratchy, cheap sheets and the empty apartment around her produced a deep melancholy in her, and she wondered for the umpteenth time that day whether she had made the right decision in leaving.

It hadn't been a bad year, after all. She'd gotten a well-paying job as a paralegal in a law office after taking a few night classes. Her mother was still in her life, but hadn't been causing much trouble as of late. Fights with Mickey were rare, and she had no real complaints about him as a romantic partner; he was sweet-natured, considerate, and loved her with everything he had in him. So why did that sometimes feel like it simply wasn't good enough?

 _Because it's dull,_ a small voice at the back of her head told her, and she sank down onto the bed. It was a thought that had reverberated in her brain a thousand times and had led to this moment, sitting on a stiff new mattress placed unceremoniously on the floor and a stiff new couch in the other room, surrounded by boxes and suitcases.

Why did it feel like after only a year, they had gone as far as they would? That they had experienced everything there was to experience? Why was she so absolutely _bored_ of their life? Of him?

"He's a good man," she'd told Janie a year ago after she'd announced to her best friend that she was moving in with Mickey. Janie had shaken her head and said, "I didn't ask you if he was a good man, I asked you what he was _like."_

And she never could really answer that.

Mickey _was_ a good man. He worked hard. He cooked pancakes for all of them on Sunday mornings. He said all the right things and laughed at her jokes. He was a good father and a good provider. He never so much as looked at another woman in all the time she'd known him, and he merrily went along with all of her eccentricities, bad jokes and big dreams. He was handsome. He'd held her while she cried over the dissolution of her marriage, sympathized with her whenever her mother was being...well, _her mother,_ and was unfailingly respectful and supportive.

That would be enough for any sane woman, she'd told herself. It should be enough for _her,_ she'd sternly reminded herself many times over the past year.

And yet here she was.

Natalie had sobbed as Elizabeth left the house that night, and Elizabeth had very nearly sobbed right along with her. She cared a lot about the little girl and was conscious of the fact that she was a kind of stand-in mother for the girl. Not even the antics of Nat and Fred had ever caused Elizabeth much consternation.

Cries of "Fred did it!" had echoed through the house constantly over the past eighteen months, usually following some catastrophe. When Natalie and Fred had decided one day in June that the house could use a new coat of paint, and proceeded to spend the afternoon throwing the multicolored contents of half-empty paint cans from the garage at the side of the house, Elizabeth had soothed Mickey with promises that it was just a childish prank, that Nat hadn't meant any harm, and that the kid down the street who was looking for odd jobs could be persuaded to re-paint the side of the house for fifty bucks and a free lunch.

On the day of Natalie's eighth birthday party, as neighborhood kids swarmed in the backyard wearing cardboard party hats and throwing confetti, Nat and Fred had slipped away to concoct a birthday surprise of their own in the form of small fireworks stuck into the birthday cake. As Mickey lit the supposed "candles" on the birthday cake, his attention momentarily distracted by one little party goer using the hydrangea bush as a makeshift toilet, all hell broke loose as the cake quite literally exploded into a thousand mushy pieces of yellow cake and frothy white frosting all over anyone standing within ten feet of the thing. Again Elizabeth calmed Mickey, dragging him into the living room as they both dripped frosting, and explained (very convincingly, she hoped) how this was all just making memories, and it was just cake for heaven's sake, and did you see the look on little Susie Atkins' face when that cake exploded?, and no one got hurt so what's the problem?, and wouldn't they _miss_ this sort of thing when Natalie was all grown up?

Because of course she knew. Of course she _knew_ what it was to have Drop Dead Fred as a playmate, as a protector, best friend, and fellow hell-raiser-in-arms. She knew what it was to wake up early on a Saturday morning to have a wild-eyed head crowned with flaming orange hair grinning down at you, ready with a new make-believe game, ready with a new adventure, just waiting for it to start _if only you'd get out of that bed!_ She knew how Fred worked, and although the unexpected was to be expected when dealing with Fred, she had more experience than anyone when dealing with Fred.

Her Fred. Nat's Fred.

Elizabeth had spent far more time wondering about Fred than was perhaps entirely sane. Did Fred have charges that changed when the charge became old enough? How many charges had he had before he'd become a part of her life? Who assigned Fred to a child, and how was it decided? Were there certain types of children who simply needed imaginary friends, ones who would even be _open_ to having an imaginary friend? Was Fred a real person, perhaps of some other dimension, or was he just a spirit, a sprite of some kind, drawn instinctively to children? If so, was he mortal in some way, or would children have Drop Dead Fred as a playmate until the end of time, whenever that was? When Fred had spoken to her of his "home", where was that? Was it an actual place, or did it simply mean he was in a dormant state somewhere, somehow? And if he'd been so connected to her own mind, as the Pill fiasco had shown when she'd nearly killed him, how was it that an entirely _different_ mind, in the form of Natalie Bunce, was able to see, hear and interact with Fred in exactly the same way that Elizabeth had? Elizabeth's father had been British; is that why she'd always heard Fred's voice as a British one? Was it some sort of unresolved problem with her father, something she'd never been aware of? She often gave herself headaches if she pondered these questions too long. That never stopped her.

"Gotta stop thinking about this stuff," she sighed, sinking down onto the bed and shutting off the lights, not even bothering to change out of her clothes.

Small sobs filled the room for hours after Mickey had tucked Natalie into bed, still clutching the bunch of bed sheets she'd been convinced would prevent Elizabeth from leaving. Not even all of Fred's terrible jokes and tricks had managed to cheer her up, and Fred had finally given up, curling himself up on the floor in the corner like a dog, eyes closed but ears listening in case Nat called for him. He knew from experience that there were times when not even all of the fart jokes in the world would cheer a kid up, and that sometimes, a kid just needed to cry herself out. But that didn't mean he would even think of leaving her side tonight.

At least until Cosmo A-Go-Go suddenly blinked into the room.

"Heya Freddie!" Cosmo chirped, his bright blue hair shining even in the dim nightlight. Fred's eyes snapped open and landed on his fellow imaginary friend and he bolted upright.

"Cosmo!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd drop in and say hi to my old buddy," Cosmo said with a wink which blinded Fred momentarily. Cosmo A-Go-Go was undoubtedly the most _glittery_ of all of the imaginary friends Fred had ever met. As usual, he was dressed head to foot in a rhinestone suit that would have made Liberace jealous and topped with outrageous neon blue hair swooped up into a bouffant.

"Whaddya mean, 'drop in and say hi'? I haven't seen you in nearly fifty years!" Fred retorted, climbing to his feet and placing his hands on his hips. "Not since you got promoted and became a bureaucrat, at any rate! What's the matter, someone forget to dot an I or cross a T on a contract somewhere?"

Cosmo bristled only slightly at this – he was quite proud of being the snazziest-looking bureaucrat in Limbo, thank you very much – and touched his bouffant with an air of delicacy. "Well! That's no way to greet an old friend! I come with a message from The Powers That Be, so you'd best listen, Fred. Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"I can't get back to Limbo _now,"_ Fred said, motioning to Nat, who now slept soundly in the bed, oblivious to the nighttime visitor. "She's too riled up. Hang on." Fred snapped his fingers, and both he and Cosmo materialized in the living room downstairs. "All right, there. This had better be good. I _hate_ bureaucrats, you know."

"Well, _we're_ not so crazy about you either!" Cosmo shot back. "The Powers That Be told me to give you two messages: First, that Natalie Bunce won't need you too much longer, Fred. So it's time to have The Talk with her."

Fred looked confused. "But isn't that something her _dad_ should do?"

"Not – oh, for heaven's sake, not _the_ The Talk. I mean, The 'I-won't-be-around-forever-because-someday-you-won't-need-me-anymore' Talk."

Fred snorted. "Cosmo, for fuck's sake, just tonight the kid was in very real danger of flooding the house with her tears. Did the Powers know _that?"_

"Of course! That's how they know she won't need you too much longer!" Seeing the indignant look rising on Fred's face, Cosmo continued, "Natalie's growing up, Fred, and things like this make kids grow up _faster._ She's eight and a half now, and already a little too old for an imaginary friend. She's got her father, and she has this Elizabeth that you seem so stuck on - "

"I am _not_ stu - "

" - and she'll realize very quickly that none of this is her fault. And that's partially down to you, old boy! Great job!" He patted Fred awkwardly on the shoulder, making Fred scoff. "The point is, Fred, your job is almost finished with her, and then back to Limbo you'll go for reassignment."

Fred seemed to hesitant for a few moments, a look of worry etched on his face as he began to pace. He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I disagree," he sniffed haughtily. "Buttbreath is going to need me for _at least_ another year yet, _at least."_

"Oh, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie." Cosmo's saccharine tone of voice made Fred fume silently. "Do you _really_ think me and the Powers That Be don't realize what's going on?"

"Oh, _what,_ that I _care about my charge?"_ Fred growled sarcastically with a jeer. "Oh yes, how _terrible_ of me, how simply _awful - "_

"It's because you'll lose your access to Elizabeth Cronin as soon as you're reassigned," Cosmo interrupted calmly. "And you know that."

Fred stopped dead in his tracks and tried his best to effect an obstinate expression on his face. He sputtered momentarily before finally saying, "That's ridiculous, Cosmo. Snotface is an adult. Besides which, she hasn't been my charge for over a year now, and even then it was only due to a bureaucratic _fluke."_ He stared daggers at Cosmo.

"Listen, it all worked out in the end!" Cosmo retorted defensively. "In fact, from what _I've_ heard of the situation, it was a damn good thing you were still technically assigned to Elizabeth Cronin when she found you again! And anyway, you'd never formally parted from her! Rules are rules, Fred, and if you don't formally part from a charge - "

" - then you spend twenty-five years in a jack-in-the-box because Cosmo the Glittery Bureaucrat decrees that _rules are rules_ , despite the fact that it's impossible to _formally part_ when you're trapped in a box!" Fred barked. "Besides which, you didn't even erase her memory! She still knew who I was when I came back!"

"As you said, you never _formally parted_ from her when she was a child _,_ so the erasure never happened," the bureaucrat huffed. "And you know full well we can't erase an adult's memory! A child's brain and an adult's brain are two different animals. But you _did_ eventually formally part with Elizabeth Cronin. And I am here to remind you of that." Cosmo stood up straight, hoping he looked very important. "The Powers That Be are concerned that you are entirely too attached to your former charge. On numerous occasions, you've left your charge Natalie specifically to spend time near Elizabeth, despite the fact that she is no longer your charge, despite the fact that she is an adult, and despite the fact that she can neither see nor hear you. You _must_ sever that connection, Fred."

"Or what?" Fred grunted.

"Or we could have a situation on our hands," Cosmo replied enigmatically. "A few times it's happened that – well, look, never mind, it's not important. But because you and she were previously bound, a remnant of that connection will always remain. That's why you must be so careful. She has her own life now, and you have a new charge that should be your focus."

"Oi!" Fred stuck a finger in Cosmo's shining chest. "Natalie Bunce _is_ my focus. No harm has come to her. Not _once."_

"We know. You've done a wonderful job as always, Fred. And that is why your time with her is coming to a close." He touched his bouffant once more and gave him a gleaming grin. "Try to have The Talk with her in the near future, all right? And perhaps I'll see you in another fifty years."

With that, Cosmo blinked out and Fred was alone in the living room. He sighed in an irritated way and wandered distractedly around the room, his eyes finally falling on a picture of Mickey, Elizabeth and Natalie. He snatched it up, staring at Elizabeth's smiling face, running a finger over her form. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn," he muttered darkly.

"Fred?" a hushed voice called down the stairs. Fred put the picture down and raced up the steps to find Natalie in her room packing a backpack.

"There you are!" she whispered. "I've decided I'm running away, Fred."

"What?" Fred dropped to the floor beside her. "Why would you want to do that? It's great here. Your dad makes pancakes on Sundays."

"I want to go to Lizzie's," Natalie replied as she threw a sweater into the backpack. "I miss her."

"She'll be back before you know it, Buttbreath," Fred argued. "I'll freeze my natters off out there. Come on, let's go back to sleep."

"No, Fred!" Natalie whined, continuing her work. "I've made up my mind, and I'll leave with or without you."

It occurred to Fred that this phrase perhaps indicated that she _didn't_ need him as much as she used to, but he quickly pushed that thought out of his mind, deciding that once the little girl stepped foot outside, she'd decide to turn right around and crawl back into her warm bed. He heaved a sigh. "Well, all right. But we'd better take a crossbow with us."

She stopped her work momentarily and looked up at him. "Why?"

He looked at her as though she was daft. "Because of the Nine-Headed Turd Monster outside. Don't tell me you've never heard of the Nine-Headed Turd Monster?"

Natalie pursed her lips skeptically. "You made that up, Fred."

"No, I didn't!" Fred bickered, surprised that she had refuted him so easily. "It's horrible! All brown and smelly! He scoops you up with one of those cat litter scoopers and sneezes all over you, and then you're covered in poo!"

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Stop being silly, Fred! Help me make some peanut butter sandwiches. Dad'll be getting up soon."

He halfheartedly helped Natalie make three sandwiches which were packed away and eased open a window in the living room, helping his charge out onto the lawn and skittering down the street beside her, babbling stories about the Nine-Headed Turd Monster the whole way. After almost an hour, they were at the edge of the neighborhood and the journey had already taken a toll on Natalie, who yawned deeply.

"I'm tired, Fred," she muttered.

Somewhat relieved, Fred hid her away behind some bushes, made sure she was unseen from the street, and as soon as Natalie was asleep, he blinked away across town just as the sun began to peek from the horizon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Elizabeth made sure the water in the shower was good and hot before peeling off her clothes and stepping inside. The shock of the hot water wore off after a moment, and she plunged her head gratefully into the stream of water, letting it warm up her limbs as it dripped down. She hadn't been able to figure out how to turn the furnace on in her new apartment last night and had been far too exhausted to really try, meaning she had woken up freezing before dawn. A hot shower and an even hotter cup of coffee had sounded like heaven to her.

A thump from somewhere inside the bathroom made her jump and yelp. Heart racing, she dared a peek from behind the shower curtain, but finding no one there, decided the walls in the apartment must be thin and that she must have heard a neighbor. She lingered in the shower for several minutes until her skin was pink and warm, then shut off the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out into the steamy bathroom.

She had just placed a glop of toothpaste on her toothbrush when she happened to look up at the mirror. Promptly, her toothbrush fell from her hands and clattered to the sink basin.

Written on the mirror's condensation and already beginning to fade was sloppy handwriting which read:

 _In bushes_

 _At front gate_

She stared at the words, mouth agape, until the steam dissipated and they disappeared. Brushing her teeth now forgotten, Elizabeth pulled the towel around her more tightly and cast a frantic gaze around the bathroom, looking for something that might be used as a weapon. Seeing nothing, she took a deep breath, placed her hand on the doorknob, closed her eyes, and threw open the door.

"Who's there?!" she bellowed into the empty bedroom. Her heart was in her throat as she ventured out of the bathroom and padded slowly down the hallway towards the living room, grabbing a knife out of the knife block in the kitchen along the way. "Whoever is in here, I'm armed!" she shouted, although even she realized how shaky and feeble her voice sounded.

The living room, and indeed the entire apartment, was empty. She breathed raggedly for a few moments, trying to decide just how, exactly, someone had written something in her bathroom mirror's condensation if the apartment was empty.

"Calm down, Lizzie," she whispered to herself, putting the knife away. She knew that if the previous tenant had smudged words on the mirror and the mirror had not been cleaned before she moved in, it was possible that the words could have appeared on the mirror in the steamy bathroom. At least this is what she tried to tell herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the telephone ringing, making her jump again. She picked it up and said hello a little forcefully.

"Lizzie?"

"Mickey?" Elizabeth leaned against the counter. "What's wrong? It's the crack of dawn!"

"Nat's gone." Mickey's voice was as shaky as hers had been a moment earlier, and Elizabeth's blood immediately ran cold. "I went to wake her up for school, and her bed's empty. I've checked all over the house and in the backyard. She's gone, Lizzie!"

Lizzie rubbed her palm against her forehead. "Ok, just take a deep breath. She couldn't have gone far. Let me get dressed and I'll be right over."

She darted back to the bedroom and threw on her clothes from yesterday, already attempting to formulate a search plan. Keys in hand, she ran out the front door and to her car, and within moments she was screeching out of the apartment complex and towards Mickey's neighborhood.

Approaching the front gates of the neighborhood, the words from the mirror came back to her suddenly, and in a flash, she understood their meaning. She threw on the brakes and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. Elizabeth wasn't even completely out of the car yet before she was yelling, "Nat! Natalie! Where are you?"

A groan emanated from behind the bushes. Elizabeth ran to them, forcing them back to find a small form hunched under them, fast asleep. She exhaled a sigh of relief. "Natalie! Wake up! What in the world are you doing here?"

Natalie sat up and rubbed her eyes. Impressions from the backpack she had used as a pillow lined her face. "Lizzie?" she murmured.

"Yes, it's me, sweetie," Elizabeth said, sitting down next to the little girl and pulling her into a hug. "Let's get you home and warmed up, ok?"

Natalie followed Elizabeth obediently and they both climbed into the car, not speaking a word as they wound their way through the streets to Mickey's house, Elizabeth not letting go of the girl's hand. "I think you nearly gave your dad a heart attack," Elizabeth said, squeezing Nat's hand. "Why on earth did you run away?"

"I wanted to find you," Nat replied with a yawn. "How did you know where to look for me?"

Elizabeth bit her lip. There was only one real explanation and she knew it: none other than Drop Dead Fred had visited her bathroom to tell her where to find Natalie. A strange surge of embarrassment or exhilaration – she couldn't decide which – coursed through her at the thought of Fred possibly having seen her in the shower, but she pushed this to the back of her mind. "I just had a funny feeling, that's all."

Natalie seemed to accept this, and when they pulled into the driveway a minute later they were met with a police car, two uniformed officers, and a distressed-looking Mickey frantically speaking to them and making a lot of hand gestures. When he caught sight of his daughter in Elizabeth's car, his facial expression immediately melted from fear into relief. He threw open the passenger side door, scooped his daughter out of the seat, and hugged her tightly.

"Nat!" he gasped. "Thank God! I'd never been so scared in all my life!"

A few tears trickled down his cheeks and Elizabeth realized that she, too, was beginning to cry as she enveloped them both in her arms.

"Lizzie," Mickey breathed. "How on earth did you find her? I looked everywhere!"

"I just – I just had a feeling," she repeated, wiping her tears away. "I'm so glad you're all right, Nat!"

"And don't ever do it again!" Mickey admonished her, although his voice was too weak to be an effective scolding. Natalie was the only one of them who remained relatively unperturbed as she yawned again.

"I just wanted to find Lizzie," she explained. "I'm sorry, Daddy. But you shouldn't have been so scared. Drop Dead Fred was with me!"

Mickey resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he let Natalie go. "Go inside, Nat. I'll be in in just a minute."

She pursed her lips but nevertheless ran inside. Her dad would never understand that Fred would never let anything bad happen to her, even if he _was_ weird and silly sometimes. She leapt onto her bed, throwing the backpack full of things she'd packed to the side, and sprawled on the bed spread. "Fred?" she called. "Where did you go?"

* * *

Drop Dead Fred was currently in Limbo, where he'd been summoned by Cosmo A-Go-Go, much to Fred's chagrin. Limbo was the plane of existence where all imaginary friends came from, and indeed where all souls on Earth passed through at one time or another. Fred had been blinked into a room with soft light for walls and very little else.

"Cosmo!" he shouted into the void. "Come on, you bastard, I haven't got all day!"

Cosmo blinked into the room, his hair glittering in the soft light, wearing an irritated expression. "And _I_ am also very busy!" he snapped. "So I don't like having to take time out of my day for the second day in a row to tell you how to do your job!"

Fred crossed his arms in front of himself. "Listen, it was Buttbreath's idea to run away, not mine. I tried to stop her."

"You know very well that's not why you were summoned," Cosmo hissed, leaning towards Fred. "Listen. I'm a reasonable imp. I don't like telling pookas how to proceed with things. I haven't lived to be seven hundred years old by not minding my own business. But you broke the Rules, after I explicitly warned you not to!"

"I did _not!"_ Fred barked indignantly. "Buttbreath could have frozen to death out there! I _had_ to tell someone! Telling someone isn't against the Rules when the charge's life is in danger, you ignorant twat!"

"That's right, but you _should_ have alerted her father! Instead, you went to Elizabeth Cronin – _while she was naked in the shower, might I add –_ and gave _her_ the message." Cosmo threw his hands up. "And you didn't alert anyone in the ways you _should_ have, in any of the _approved_ methods for pookas: woken up her dad by making a crash, leaving a trail of Natalie's belongings leading to where she was, fabricated a note from her, _anything._ No, you _wrote a message_ on a _fogged up mirror_ in _another part of town!"_ He scowled at Fred. "Pookas can't alert anyone to their existence except their charges. The Rules are _very_ clear on that."

"Listen, it was the quickest way to do it!" Fred argued. "It would have taken them hours to find her otherwise, and Fartpants was too frantic by that point to notice any of the usual methods of alerting a parent. Anyway, Snotface can't possibly believe it was _me."_

"She _knows_ it's you. She's not stupid, at least, not as stupid as you. And you're interfering _far_ too much in her life." Cosmo rubbed his temples. "This is your last warning, Fred. If you keep making connections with her – going to her specifically, writing messages to her – the formal parting will start to break down. The walls will crumble. They're very close to doing so, and the Powers That Be are furious. The only saving grace to this whole thing is that the time of formal parting from Natalie is drawing close, very close. She's already not listening to you, as you discovered last night."

Fred grimaced and took a few steps around the room to clear his head. "I haven't had The Talk with her yet."

"Well I suggest you do so immediately," Cosmo said primly, brushing off his sleeve. "And _stay away_ from Elizabeth Cronin. This is your _last_ warning."

Before Fred could offer a retort, he was blinked back into Natalie's room, where she was quietly unpacking the backpack. She smiled at him. "Hi, Fred!"

"Hi, Buttbreath." Fred sank down onto the bed. "Was your dad angry?"

"Nah," Natalie replied. "He's outside with Lizzie and the police. He says I don't have to go to school today, Fred!"

Fred heaved a sigh. "Listen, Buttbreath. We've got to talk."

"About what?" Natalie asked innocently as she placed the three peanut butter sandwiches on her bed stand.

"You're growing up, you know," Fred told her. "Pretty soon you won't need ol' Drop Dead Fred anymore."

Natalie blinked hard, and a look of worry crossed her face. "But you're my friend, Fred!"

"Yeah, for _now._ But before you know it, you'll have all kinds of friends your own age, booger eater." Fred laid down on the bed and Natalie curled up beside him. He stared up at the plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling. "And I'll go back home again."

"Where is your home, Fred?"

"Far away from here," he answered vaguely. "It's nothing like your moronic, girly room. It's got dinosaurs and robots and space aliens. It's _loads_ better than this."

"Can't I go with you?"

"Nah. You have to stay here and take care of your dad." He swallowed hard. "And Snotface."

"You like Lizzie too, don't you Fred?" Natalie sat up. "I hear you talking to her sometimes when you think I can't hear."

He blushed slightly. "She's not quite as bad as all the other grown-ups. She's special. Remember that."

"Ok." Natalie yawned. "I'm really tired, Fred. You won't go before I wake up, right?"

Fred let a small smile escape him. "I'll be here for as long as you need me, Buttbreath."

* * *

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Janie put her fork down on the edge of her plate, leaning into Elizabeth, her eyes alight. "You mean you saw him again? Your drop dead guy?"

Elizabeth swallowed the bit of salmon in her mouth and leaned in closer to her friend, hoping that the other restaurant patrons around her wouldn't hear them. "I didn't _see_ him," she whispered. "He wrote me a message. On the bathroom mirror in the steam, when I was taking a shower."

Janie's eyes widened. "You mean he – did he _see_ you in the shower?"

"No, of course not!" Elizabeth burst, turning a shade pinker. At least she didn't _think_ he'd seen her. "He just told me where to find Natalie after she ran away this morning."

Janie's eyebrows rose towards her forehead as she picked up her fork and knife, beginning to slice into the piece of chicken before her. "It's all very strange," she muttered. "Invisible beings, other planes of existence. Almost makes you think the entire world isn't bullshit."

"At least ninety percent of it is," said Elizabeth. "But that last ten percent...I'll never claim to understand it all."

Their regular Monday lunch date had brought them to this small Italian restaurant on the edge of town that they'd been to at least a dozen times before, but neither of them minded. It was a stalwart constant in a sea of uncertainty as they navigated through their lives, and each was grateful for the opportunity of an hour alone to catch up.

"What _I_ don't understand is why if you've got this great boyfriend, you decided to move _out."_ Janie looked up at her friend pointedly. "You're moving _backwards._ You realize that, right? People usually only move out if they break up. But you're convinced you haven't broken up?"

"No, we didn't break up." Elizabeth averted her eyes. "I don't know, Janie. I just don't know what I want. And maybe it's unfair to make Mickey wait around while I figure it all out."

"Listen, I'm a firm believer in what's meant to happen _will_ happen. If you and Mickey are destined to end up together, you will. And if you're not, you won't. Simple as that. When will you see him again?"

"Who?" Elizabeth demanded. "Fred? I don't - "

"No, Mickey. You know, your boyfriend?" Janie shook her head. "You really do have to get your thoughts sorted out, honey. Fred's imaginary, right?"

"Yes. Well. No. I mean, sort of." Elizabeth sighed. "How can he be _entirely_ imaginary if he's leaving me messages?" She leaned in closer once again. "And once in a while, I _swear_ I can hear him talking to me! Jesus! Maybe I ought to get my head examined." She took a sip of water. "Mickey and I are going out on a date tonight. Try to talk some things out. He was so rattled this morning I didn't think he'd still be up for leaving Nat tonight, but he says he's fine and Natalie was fine too."

Janie shook her head once again. "Well, I'm glad the kid is ok. You've taken a real shine to her over the past year, haven't you?"

"Oh, sure," Elizabeth said demurely. "She's a nice kid. I can't ever replace her mother, of course, but we get along ok. I seem to be the only adult in her life that understands the kind of mischief she and Fred get into."

"How can _your_ former imaginary friend now be _her_ imaginary friend?" Janie asked with her mouth full. "I just don't get it. Some sort of transference? Did you _tell_ her about Fred, and now she pretends she can see him too?"

"No. It was as much a shock to me as it was to anyone." Elizabeth chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Some part of Fred _must_ be real, Janie. If another child can see him and interacts with him in the same way I did – if I can _feel_ him around me sometimes – if he can _write messages on mirrors..._ some part of him _can't_ be imaginary, right?"

Janie shook her head again, waving her fork dismissively. "Maybe he's a ghost who is very particular about who he haunts."

Despite herself, Elizabeth guffawed. "He's the rudest ghost in the world, then," she finished with one last chuckle, wiping a tear from her eye.

Janie watched her carefully. "Listen, Lizzie. I'm your best friend, right?"

"Of course you are!"

"And best friends tell each other hard truths, even if they know the other person won't like it?"

Elizabeth found herself squirming uncomfortably in her chair but nonetheless muttered, "Uh...I guess?"

Wiping her mouth on a napkin fastidiously as though about to impart some great pearl of wisdom, Janie said, "Lizzie, you act completely different when you're talking about Fred versus when you're talking about Mickey. I almost never see you laugh or grin when you're talking about Mickey like you do when you talk about Fred. This suggests two things to me. Are you ready?"

"Janie," Elizabeth moaned. "Come on, you can't - "

"I can, and I will. Look." She sat up straighter in her chair, making sure she had Elizabeth's full attention before continuing, "You're, what, almost thirty-three? I realize you didn't have a great childhood, okay? No one could have with the mother you have. And I know that Fred was one of the only good things _about_ your childhood, so I understand that you're...let's say, _sentimental_ about his memory. But you're grown-up now, Lizzie. And as soon as things start to get a little difficult in your life – like it did with Charles, like it is now with Mickey – it's like you lean on that memory of Fred and hold it up on a pedestal, attributing things to Fred that have nothing to do with him, because he's _imaginary,_ Lizzie."

Elizabeth gawked at Janie dumbly for a moment before sputtering, "Janie, you don't think I'm making all of this stuff up about Fred, do you?"

"I don't know exactly what to think," Janie admitted. "Which brings me to my second point. Since you're a grown-up, there's certain things that all grown-ups have to face. And one of those things is deciding what we want our future to look like. Now listen, let's forget about whether Fred is imaginary or not for a minute. The fact that you're more animated in talking about an imaginary man than you are talking about a real, flesh and blood one makes me think that your whole heart isn't in that relationship. And sooner or later, you'll have to confront that. You'll have to decide what you want your future to look like."

Elizabeth sighed and pushed her plate forward. She suddenly wasn't so hungry anymore. "Listen, I know you're right about that, Janie. I know you are. But I'm still sorting it all out in my head."

"Well, get to sorting, kid," Janie said with an air of finality as she popped the last bite of chicken in her mouth. "Nobody gets to start their lives completely over."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Elizabeth checked her watch for the fourth time in as many minutes as she paced outside of the French restaurant she'd agreed to meet Mickey at that evening for their date. She shivered, pulling the jacket closer around her slim frame, and strained her eyes to see through the small crowd milling around outside of the busy restaurant. Finally, just as she was about to go in and get a table – if only to get out of the chilly evening air – Mickey appeared, looking slightly frazzled.

"Sorry," he said in lieu of a greeting. "The babysitter was running late."

She nodded and they headed inside, being shown to their table almost immediately. She ordered a bottle of wine and fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. "So, uh, how's Natalie doing?"

"Fine, fine." Mickey seemed almost relieved that she'd been the first one to speak. "She apologized after she woke up." He shook his head ruefully. "Seems like only yesterday she could barely toddle around on her own two feet. Now she managed to find her way almost to the main road outside of the neighborhood. I was furious this morning, but then I realized that she's been through a lot in the last year and a half."

"We all have," Elizabeth concurred.

"That's for sure."

An awkward silence descended over them and wasn't broken until a waiter appeared with their wine and took their orders. Mickey nibbled at a bit of bread from the basket in front of them while Elizabeth ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass. A distant smile spread across her face. "You know, even after all this time, wine still reminds me of Charles."

Mickey paused mid-chew. "And what reminds you of me?" he asked softly.

Her smile spread. "A lot of things. Sunny days. The smell of an old pick-up truck. Watching someone climb a tree."

They both chuckled at this but seemed unable to find the natural rhythm of a conversation and instead stumbled through several disparate topics over their appetizers until Mickey cleared his throat and announced he was going to call the babysitter to see how it was going at home. He excused himself to the bar, where the bartender let him use the phone. To his surprise, it sounded calm and peaceful at home.

"Natalie's just in her room playing dolls," the babysitter – a teenager named Kat – told the worried father. "Been a quiet evening."

Mickey frowned. "What, really? You're talking about Natalie, right?"

"Yeah. No trouble at all." The babysitter yawned. "My friend babysat for Nat before and told horror stories, but she's been an angel all evening."

Natalie had, in fact, been an angel all evening, content to play with her dollhouse quietly, much to the consternation of Fred, who jumped on the bed with all the force he could muster, sneering down at the dollhouse below him.

"We're missing a golden opportunity here!" he cried to Natalie. "Just give me five minutes, and I could set off a firework in the living room! Liven things up a bit!"

"I don't wanna, Fred," Natalie whined. "I just wanna play dolls."

"Ok, we'll play dolls. I love playing dolls!" He bounced off the bed and grabbed two Barbie dolls laying next to the dollhouse. He held one of them close his ear. "What's that, Brittney? You said you'd...you said you'd _like a haircut?_ With _the belt sander?"_

"No, Fred!" Natalie shouted, pulling Brittney the Barbie away from Fred. Unfazed, he held the second Barbie to his ear, seeming to listen intently.

"Why – you'd like a vacation, Angela? You'd – you'd like to visit the _fireplace?_ And to be sure to _light it first?"_

"Fred, stop!" Natalie snatched the other doll away from Fred and frowned. "Angela and Brittney are just waiting for Stephanie to finish washing her hair, and then they're all going out to the fashionable poolside nightclub in the bathroom sink."

"Great! Let's give them a whirlpool experience – we'll flush them down the toilet and see if we can flood the house!"

Natalie groaned and rolled her eyes. " _No,_ Fred. Either we play it my way or not at all." With this, she turned her back to Fred and happily went back to playing. Fred sighed heavily and collapsed on a chair in the corner. Cosmo hadn't been kidding when he said Nat didn't need an imaginary friend anymore; he surveyed the girl's bedroom sadly, knowing that these were the last days he'd ever be here before being reassigned to another child.

"Well, this is just _grand,"_ he moaned sarcastically. "Might as well just go to _bed_ for all the fun _we're_ having."

Just then, the bedroom door opened and Kat stuck her head in. "Bedtime, kiddo."

"What did I tell you?" Fred crowed. "Are you going to sit there and take that, Buttbreath? You remember how we tied the last babysitter up? Or the one we bound up in a net? Or the one whose hair we accidentally set on fire? Great days, those!"

Natalie threw him a deadpan look but merely nodded at Kat, then proceeded to change into her pajamas and crawl into bed. Fred watched all of this with dismay but said nothing, already beginning to feel the connection between he and Nat – the one that is formed during the first few weeks of being a child's imaginary friend – starting to fade. It was a physical sensation, almost like letting a tight belt out notch by notch, but as the lights went out in the bedroom that evening, he knew that time had grown very short, and with it, his access to Snotface would be terminated as well.

This thought kept him wide awake long after the lights went out and Natalie had started to snore.

* * *

The car rumbled to the curb and Elizabeth turned off the ignition. Mickey sighed.

"Sorry about my old pick-up. It's not the most reliable car in the world," he said.

"It's ok. You can call a tow truck in the morning."

"Yeah. Thanks for dropping me off, Lizzie."

They both sat in silence for a moment, as nervous as if they were on their first date, with Mickey wondering if it would be ok to kiss her goodnight. Finally, Lizzie leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and an apologetic smile. He gazed back at her, a serious expression on his face.

"Lizzie," he murmured. "Please don't tell me this is how it's going to be now. We've come too far, been through too much - "

"Mickey, please." She ran a tired hand over her face. "Please don't ask me to make sense of this now. We're just going to have to see how things go, all right?"

"All right," he whispered. "Call me tomorrow?"

Elizabeth nodded as he exited the car, threw one last look at her over his shoulder, and entered the house. She released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and put the car into reverse, turning around in the driveway and speeding off into the night.

She didn't notice that she had a passenger, albeit an invisible one.

"Cosmo'll shit his pants over this," Fred muttered from the backseat, his arms crossed over his chest. "But I can't just leave without saying goodbye, even if you have no idea I'm here." He let his eyes roam over the street lights as they passed, gathering his thoughts. "Buttbreath's already breaking from me. I can feel it. The connection is fading. Wouldn't be surprised if it takes her a moment to even _see_ me tomorrow. She doesn't need me anymore. All that's left to do is the formal parting and then it's over." He looked towards Elizabeth. "And when I go, that's it. I'll never see you again, Snotface."

Elizabeth turned into a gas station, intent on filling the almost empty tank. Fred followed her out into the lot, watching as she removed the nozzle and the numbers clicked on the pump. He kicked at a pebble absently.

"You were one of my favorites, Snotface," he said quietly. "It's a good thing you can't hear me. I wouldn't be caught dead saying something so girly to your face. But it's true. I never get to meet my charges once they grow up. Sort of not in my realm, right? But you...you turned out all right, Snotface. And if I had even a small part in that, then I'm glad. I'm glad I got to be a part of your life."

Elizabeth's ears perked and she jerked her head around, having sworn she could hear someone speaking to her, but the lot was empty except for a car next to her. The pump clicked off, signifying the tank was full, and she hung it back up. Shrugging off the strange sensation, she rounded her car to get back in the driver's seat when a wild squeal erupted from behind her and she barely had time to turn before nearly being blinded by the headlights of a speeding car coming straight at her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and didn't even have a chance to scream before she felt a strong force push her out of the path of the car, slamming her to the grimy concrete, a heavy weight atop her. Her eyes shot open and met with a pair of familiar bright green ones.

The scream died in her throat and was replaced by a shocked yelp of, "Fred?!"

Fred's eyes widened as he realized that not only had he directly interfered in a life not his charge's – totally against the Rules, if he'd ever paid attention to such things – but also, that somehow that life had _seen_ him, and _recognized_ him – almost certainly a terrible offense, one that he hadn't even realized was _possible._

"Snotface!" he yelped back, then immediately snapped his fingers and disappeared.

"Ma'am? Ma'am! You ok?"

The male voice broke through Elizabeth's haze after a moment and she realized she was still on the ground, and the car that had nearly hit her had plowed into the car next to hers. With a start, she became aware that she would have been killed if Fred hadn't thrown her out of the way.

A panicked looking gas station attendant stood over her, removing his dingy ball cap and fanning her face. "Jesus, he nearly got you!" he pointed out needlessly. He stuck a hand out and helped her to her feet. "You ok?" he repeated.

"I'm...I'm fine..." she mumbled, looking around her frantically to see if Fred was still there. When she didn't see him, she turned to the gas station attendant, holding onto the lapels of his uniform fiercely. "Did you see him?" she demanded. "Red hair? Green suit? Saved my life just now? Did you _see_ him?"

"I saw you jump outta the way at the last second," the attendant said, looking at her strangely. "Didja hit yer head? Want me to call an ambulance?"

"No, no, I – I just need to get home," she said in a slow voice.

"You sure now?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you."

"Don't worry about paying for the gas, ma'am. Just glad you're all right." The attendant turned to the car wreck in front of him, and his face hardened. "Now if you'll excuse me, ma'am, Imma call the police. Care to stay and make a statement?"

She refused, knowing she needed to get out of there as quickly as possible to try and understand what had just happened, how she could have just seen Drop Dead Fred materialize out of thin air and save her life. The trip home seemed to take only a second, and she stumbled into her apartment, locking the door behind her and throwing herself on the couch.

Her first thought was to reach for the phone. Janie just _had_ to hear about this.

* * *

Fred had barely blinked back into Natalie's room before Cosmo materialized beside him, wearing an irate expression.

"Listen you twit, don't start with me!" Fred bellowed by way of a greeting. "I already know what you're going to say!"

" _Really._ Then you'll know that the Powers That Be request _your immediate presence_ in Limbo!" Cosmo shot back heatedly.

"Oh, what are they going to do, ey? What are they going to say?" Fred barked, resisting the urge to land a fist on the prim little imp in front of him. "That my connection to Buttbreath is severed? That I can never see Snotface again? Well it's going to happen any time now anyway, so what does it matter?"

"It's gone beyond that, Fred," Cosmo returned in a dark voice. "You've broken the most sacred Rule there is. You've shown yourself and interfered with a life that isn't your charge's. You've broken down the walls of a connection that was formally parted from. There are consequences for such things."

"My bosses are pissed off, is that it?" Fred jeered. "Oh, I pissed off the _mighty Powers That Be,_ oh no! Oh, whatever shall I _do,_ Cosmo? _Hm, well,_ it's too bad I'm already _dead_ so they can't kill me, and it's too bad I'm already going to _lose everyone that I care about in a matter of hours anyway,_ oh yes, that's just too bad! There's nothing left they can do to me!"

Cosmo stood tall – as tall as he could, anyway – and regarded Fred gravely. "The formal parting with Natalie Bunce should happen right now, Fred. Right this minute. And then you and I are going to Limbo. No arguments. I'm under strict instructions, and if I have to incapacitate you to get you back to Limbo, you know full well I'm capable of that."

Knowing not to question at least that much, Fred struck an indignant pose and spat, "What, right now? She's asleep, you anus nugget!"

"All the better. Easier to erase her memory that way."

Fred scoffed. "Of all the _stupid_ Rules, that one is the _stupidest._ Don't you bureaucrats realize that sometimes the happiest memories are the ones with me in them for my charges?"

"You know full well she'll still have the memories, Fred, just not with you in them. You're stalling. Get on with it."

With a dramatic sigh, Fred leaned down next to Natalie asleep in the bed, and shook her gently. "Buttbreath? Buttbreath, wake up!"

"What is it, Fred?" she muttered sleepily. "I don't want to play a game right now. I'm tired."

"Wake up. I'm...I'm leaving, Buttbreath. I have to go."

"Fine. See you in the morning."

"No, no. I'm _leaving._ Forever. Tonight. Right now." He said this softly, a note of emotion creeping into his voice. This caused Natalie's eyes to finally open and land on her friend. She studied him intently for a moment.

"You're leaving forever?" she echoed in confusion. "But why?"

He tried to give her a brave smile, but failed. "Because you don't need me anymore. You're going to get along fine without me, Buttbreath. I just...I just wanted to say goodbye."

Her eyes widened and she reached out for him, pulling him into an embrace. "But where will you go?" she whispered.

"Home," he croaked. "I'm going home, Natalie. And I won't ever see you again."

This caused a few tears to well in Natalie's eyes, which she attempted to hide. "You really have to, Fred?"

"'Fraid so, monkey butt." He hugged her tightly. "Kiss me, and say my name. And then that's it. You'll go on with your life. And...and I'll go on with mine."

After some hesitation, she planted a light kiss on his cheek, snuggled against him, and whispered, "Drop Dead Fred..."

And with that, Fred and Cosmo blinked out of the room and out of Natalie Bunce's life forever.

* * *

Fred and Cosmo materialized side by side in an enormous room that was empty except for a humongous desk in the shape of an obelisk in front of them. Behind the desk towered three cloaked figures, each several times larger than the two spirits standing before them, trembling slightly. These were the almighty Powers That Be, who controlled not only human time on Earth and the hereafter, but also the realm of the pookas, or, as they were better known, imaginary friends.

"Drop Dead Fred!" the central Power boomed. "Do you know why you've been brought before us?"

"Well, I have a pretty good idea," Fred replied, trying not to let the nervousness show in his voice, although the Powers That Be had always unnerved him somewhat. "I broke the Rules. Cosmo hasn't shut up about it all night."

"I'm only doing my job!" Cosmo cried indignantly. He stepped forward. "Sirs and Madam, I bring before you the pooka who broke the most sacred Rule you decreed: He interfered in a life not his charge's, and somehow managed to appear before that life so that she recognized him. It's only happened once or twice in all of history."

"Yes, the connection between Fred and this...Elizabeth Cronin...is unusually strong," the female figure on the right said, seeming to read off of some notes in front of her. "Tell me, Cosmo, where did this connection come from?"

"Elizabeth Cronin is Fred's former charge, as you may remember. She was the one who...well, uh, for lack of a better term, _accidentally imprisoned_ Fred for a number of decades before releasing him, whereby he was finally able to complete the job."

"Ah, yes. A most interesting case that was," the other male figure on the left mused. "I do recall that, as a matter of fact. Perhaps the first time in history that a pooka was still assigned to an _adult,_ was it not?" The other figures murmured their agreement. He cleared his throat. "Well, perhaps it is not so unusual that their connection is a strong one, then. It lasted decades longer than the connections normally do."

"It's not only that," the female Power corrected him. "It was an unusually strong connection to begin with, was it not, Fred?"

Fred shrugged, trying to appear disaffected. "Snotface and I got along famously, as it happens. We had some real fun back in those days."

"And even once you were formally parted from her, you could not resist sharing space with her, is that correct?" the central figure, whose deep voice made the entire room vibrate, asked in a slightly mocking tone. Fred bristled.

"Well, it wasn't exactly _easy_ to avoid her. She was practically the stepmother to my newest charge, Natalie Bunce," Fred explained. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "And if I liked to needle Snotface a bit from time to time, just for old times sake, well, where's the real harm in that?"

"It wasn't _needling,"_ Cosmo clarified pointedly.

"No, it wasn't," the central Power thundered. "It was a consistent and persistent accompaniment to everything she did. You forget, Fred, that we can watch everything you do. We warned you to keep your distance. And yet you chose to ignore us."

"Yeah, well, free will is a bitch, innit?" Fred wrinkled his nose and snickered.

A heavy sigh escaped the central Power. "And now tonight, you chose to flaunt the Rules in the worst way possible. We can't erase the memory of an adult. She knows that she saw you, and she'll remember it."

"So what?" Fred shrugged. "If she tells anyone, they'll think she's a loony. And anyway, I'll never see her again _now_. Knowing you lot, you'll assign me to a kid halfway 'round the world from Snotface just so I'd never even have the slightest opportunity to...to _re-offend,_ as it were."

"Not this time, Fred," the female figure said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Fred gave her a strange look. "What do you mean? I'm not being reassigned? I'm going back to Natalie?"

"No. You've already formally parted with her."

"Then I'm...I'm not being reassigned...at _all?"_ A panic-stricken looked crossed Fred's face. "But – but I'm a great imaginary friend! All right, I'm a little rough around the edges, but I've only been at this for a century or so! There's a learning curve, you know! Have some compassion, for chrissakes!"

The central Power stood, and leaned over the desk towards him, his face – as always – obscured by the cowl. "Your days as a pooka are over, Fred."

Fred's heart seemed to sink so quickly it practically crashed to the floor. He sank to his knees. "No! No, please! I'm sorry!" he pleaded pitifully. "Please, give me one more chance!"

"I _told_ you not to ignore their warnings, you imbecile," Cosmo hissed at him.

"Please! I'm not ready for whatever comes after this!" Fred continued to beg. "I'm not ready to say goodbye to the world yet!"

"We understand that, Fred," the female figure responded. "Your own life was pitifully brief, and you've been in the service of others ever since. We can't punish someone simply for being in _love,_ Fred. Love is what the universe is made of, after all."

"Love?!" Fred shot to his feet, his swagger returning in an instant. "Me? Drop Dead Fred? I don't love anyone or anything! How _dare_ you, madam!"

"I'll actually sort of miss the little fella," the figure on the right sighed. "But we'll see him again someday."

Realization struck Fred and his expression turned to one of shock. "Wait a minute. _Wait a minute._ You're _not - "_

"We are." The central Power said this with an air of finality, making a few notes with a quill before him. "You're to be returned to your mortal state, Fred. Minus the life-ending injuries, of course."

"No!" Fred erupted. "No, no, no! Human life is a misery! An absolute agony! Don't do it! Please!"

"Just because your _own_ previous life was a misery doesn't mean that _all_ life is. We think you may actually find it can be pleasant," the female figure chirped, obviously pleased with herself.

"How can you say that with a straight face?" Fred demanded. "I'd have to give up _all_ my magic!"

"Mortal life has its own sort of magic, you'll find," the figure said dismissively, continuing his writing.

Cosmo leaned in close to him. "Of course, not the _cool_ sort of magic you'll be stripped of."

"Don't you dare rub it in, shitbrain! You got me into this!"

"I did not!"

"You went and tattled to Mummy and Daddy when Fred broke your precious Rules!" he hissed at the blue-haired glitter bomb next to him. "And now I'm getting kicked out of Limbo! Thanks a fucking lot, you glittery git!"

"Enough!" the central Power boomed. "The process has already begun. Cosmo, you're to guide Fred back to Earth and see him to safety before you take your leave of him. Fred, you are granted your freedom to live in the mortal realm. Use your second chance at life well. It is not often that we give someone the opportunity to, in essence, live their life over again." All three figures nodded at Fred as they began to fade away into the mist. "Farewell, Fred," the central figure's voice boomed around him. "Good luck."

And with that, Fred immediately crumpled to the floor unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mickey tore open the kitchen cupboard and rooted fruitlessly until he found what he was looking for: a box of spaghetti lodged in the very back, behind the syrup. Clutching this and a bottle of spaghetti sauce, he set both down on the counter hurriedly and began searching anew for a pot when the wall phone began to trill.

"Oh, what now?" he growled softly, wiping his hands on his dirty work jeans. He'd gotten home just moments ago after a harried day that had seen his shift end an hour later than normal, leaving him very little time to prepare the promised dinner for Natalie and Elizabeth, who was already on her way over. He snatched the phone off the hook and barked, "Hello?"

"Mickey?"

The sound of the familiar voice at the other end made the world stop spinning for just a moment, and Mickey plopped down on a kitchen chair, stunned. "Marcia?"

"Hi." The soft voice was slow, hesitating. "I'm sorry I haven't called in a while."

"It's been months." He ran a hand over his face; why now, of all times, did his ex-wife choose to call? "Where are you?"

"Still in Albuquerque. Uh, how are you? And Nat?"

"Fine, fine." He grasped for words before settling on, "Why – why are you calling?"

"Well, maybe because I'd like to speak to my former husband and daughter," Marcia replied wryly. "I figured maybe for once I could stop being such an asshole and be the one to reach out."

"That's certainly a change." A snappish tone had entered Mickey's voice. "Natalie still asks why you're not here, you know."

"I wish I had a good answer for her." Marcia sighed on the other end. "Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few months, and...and I decided to do what you and I talked about last summer."

Mickey's ears perked. "You mean move back to town?"

"Yeah. Look, I...Christ, this is hard..." She heaved another sigh. "I've just realized that maybe chucking away everything I cared about to pursue a business wasn't the brightest idea."

"What, things not going well in Albuquerque?"

"No, they're going fantastic, as a matter of fact. We don't have to worry about where Nat's college fund is going to come from, for one." She was silent for a moment and then continued, "I can't make up for the time I've already lost with Nat, Mickey. And I'm not going to try to worm my way back into your lives if you don't want me. I understood what I was risking when I left, I guess I just didn't realize how difficult being alone would be. So I'm moving the business closer to you and Nat, and I'm hoping eventually I can be a part of her life again."

Mickey laughed mirthlessly. "You haven't seen her since last Christmas, and she only gets to talk to you on the phone once every couple of months. You can't just waltz back into her life like none of that matters, Marcia! She may be a kid, but she's not stupid, and she's got feelings!"

"I know." The voice at the other end was contrite, but wounded. "I know that. And quite frankly, I wouldn't blame her if she refuses to ever see me again. I didn't think enough about how she would feel when I moved to New Mexico. But I'm starting to get it now; if she misses me even a _tenth_ as much as I miss her, then..." She trailed off, and was quiet for so long that Mickey thought the call had been dropped when she finally added, "I was an idiot. I let my ambition outstrip my common sense. I get it. But I have to at least try, or I'll never forgive myself."

"When are you moving back?" The words slipped from Mickey before he could stop them.

"Soon. Couple of weeks, maybe. Just a few last things to get in order. I bought a little condo on the east side of town, sight unseen. I figure as long as it's got four walls and a roof, I can live anywhere while I get myself re-established." She paused. "Mickey, would you...would you tell her? Would you tell Nat I'm moving back, and see what she says?"

"Well, she's upstairs. Why don't you tell her yourself?"

"Because I'm...listen, it sounds silly, but I'm scared, Mickey. What if she tells me she never wants to see me again? I don't think I could bear it."

"I'll tell her," he promised quietly. "Bye, Marcia."

He hung up the phone, unsure of how to even broach that subject at dinner, and quickly began to throw together ingredients for dinner. He had just plunged a knife into an onion when he heard the front door unlock and Elizabeth walked in.

"I've got the garlic bread!" she said, throwing a bag down on the counter and giving Mickey a peck on the cheek. "How was your day?"

"Hectic," he answered, not wanting to bring up Marcia quite yet. "Yours?"

"Same. The office was crazy today. Didn't even have a chance to go home and get out of my work clothes," she replied, setting her purse down and stirring the pot of spaghetti noodles boiling on the stovetop. "Where's Nat?"

"Upstairs." said Mickey in a distracted voice as he added the chopped onion to the sauce simmering in a pan. "You want to get that garlic bread started?"

The pair worked quickly and efficiently like a well-oiled machine, their kitchen habits honed over a year of cohabitation remaining in-tact; Elizabeth made the salad and the garlic bread and set the table, while Mickey poured drinks and dished up the meal. By the time Natalie scooted into her chair twenty minutes later, a meal worthy of a much bigger effort piled the table. Small talk prevailed for the first few moments before Elizabeth couldn't hold out any longer and turned to Natalie.

"So, Nat...how's Fred lately? What have you two been up to?" she asked in what she hoped was an innocent tone.

Natalie gave her a confused look. "Fred who?"

Elizabeth frowned. "Fred. Drop Dead Fred. You know, your friend?"

Natalie shook her head. "I don't know anyone named Drop Dead Fred. How come he's got such a weird name?"

Mickey and Elizabeth exchanged looks, then Mickey shrugged. "Easy come, easy go for kids," he murmured. "Sort of glad it's over, actually."

Elizabeth, however, was not so easily soothed. "Natalie, you can't tell me you don't remember Fred," she persisted. "You two were inseparable for over a year."

Natalie could offer only a shrug and went back to her food while Mickey seemed unconcerned. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach caused Elizabeth to take a long sip of her water, her face scrunching up as though she might actually cry.

So Fred was gone, was he? And with that, she supposed, she'd never see him again. If his mission – or whatever it was – with Natalie was now at an end, if he'd fulfilled his purpose, then she supposed he'd gone back to wherever he came from and there would be no reason for him to be hanging around anymore. The thought gave rise to a deep sense of loss which she did her best to mask with shaky smiles as Natalie regaled them both with tales of her school day.

Mickey waited patiently until she was finished, and then delicately said, "Hey, kiddo, guess who I just talked to on the phone?"

"Who, Daddy?"

Mickey laid down his napkin next to his plate. "Your mom. She...she misses you a lot, Nat. She...Nat, she's moving back to town. She's only going to be a few miles away. What do you think about that?"

Natalie seemed to study her father carefully for a long moment, almost as if to decide whether he was kidding or not. "Mama's coming back to town? To _stay?"_

"Yes." Mickey cleared his throat, conscious that Elizabeth's gaze was every bit as shocked as Natalie's. "She's moving her business here so she can be closer to you. She wanted me to ask you...well, if you'd want to see her when she came back." He laid a hand on his daughter's, looking deeply into her eyes. "It's ok to say no if you don't want to see her, Natalie. Both Mama and Daddy would understand that. Lizzie would, too."

Natalie's eyes, which had become large and wet, stayed locked on her father's. "I don't know, Daddy," she answered.

"You don't have to make a decision now, honey." He laid his napkin back in his lap. "But I just wanted to tell you so that you'd have time to think it over. Ok?"

Natalie bit her lip and pushed her fork around on her plate, looking lost in thought. "Ok," she whispered.

* * *

Elizabeth begged off the board games that usually accompanied a family dinner and left Mickey's house shortly after helping to clean up the kitchen, saying she was tired and wanted to get to bed early. Neither Mickey or Natalie seemed to mind, as they both seemed as preoccupied about Marcia as Elizabeth secretly did about Fred, and Elizabeth gratefully closed the door to her apartment a little after seven p.m., locking it behind her and intent only on a long bubble bath and perhaps a few chapters out of the book she'd been reading.

With a sigh, she threw her coat across the couch - not having had time to shop for anything yet, let alone a coat rack - and began to peel off her shirt as she opened the door to her bedroom. To her complete and utter shock, her bedroom was not empty.

"Hello!" a cheerful voice burst from the corner of the room, making Elizabeth shriek and pull the shirt back down over her head. Smoothing her hair away frantically, she caught sight of the voice's source - a strange looking man dressed in a rhinestone suit and sporting a bright head of blue hair. He beamed at her. "Mrs. Cronin, I presume?"

"Ms.," she corrected him automatically, her heart thumping. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?! I signed the lease yesterday! They must have given you the wrong set of keys!"

"No, no, no," the odd man prattled, walking towards her and extending a hand. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I'm on business, you see. _Official_ business." He gave her a wide grin. "Cosmo A-Go-Go at your service, madam."

She didn't take the outstretched hand, instead looking him up and down several times. He seemed to glow ethereally in the drab bedroom, almost mesmerizing her. "Cosmo - what?"

"A-Go-Go. Do forgive the silly names. It's sort of our specialty, you know."

"Whose specialty?" she demanded. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing in my apartment? The front door was locked!"

"Oh, I don't use _doors,"_ Cosmo replied in a disgusted tone, as though insulted. "When have you ever seen an imaginary friend use a _door?_ We only use those in Limbo, my dear, and the lack of character and color in this room would suggest we're nowhere _near_ Limbo. Only on Earth do you get these depressing tones of grey," he finished, looking around forlornly.

"You're - you're an imaginary friend?" Elizabeth clutched her head. "Oh God, please don't tell me I'm going to go through all of _that_ again!"

"Oh no, that's all over with. Perhaps we can speak in the other room? I do have some rather important information to impart to you."

"Fred?" Elizabeth gasped. "Is it about Fred?"

Without answering, Cosmo took her gently by the elbow and led her into the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

"Is Fred ok?" she continued to prattle. "I _know_ I saw him last night, and then today, Natalie doesn't even seem to _remember_ him, and - "

"All in good time, my dear!" Cosmo interrupted. "Do you have any coffee? I often find that's a wonderful way to start a conversation with a mortal. You all _do_ seem to love your coffee."

"S-Sure," she answered, stumbling into the small kitchen and filling up two mugs with the coffee left over from her breakfast, still sitting on the warmer. She shakily held a mug out to him, which he took, and after one sip, Cosmo cringed.

"Oh, God!" he sputtered. "I forgot you mortals don't have the sweet nectar of the gogoberries to put in your coffee." He barely kept down a retching sound as he set the mug on the counter. "Although perhaps I am too partial to them, after all. I'm _part_ gogoberry, you know."

"You're - you're part fruit?" Elizabeth blinked rapidly. "At least, I assume that's what a gogoberry is?"

"Correct." Cosmo scraped his tongue with his fingers, the bitterness in his mouth finally beginning to fade. "But they only grow in Limbo."

"Limbo?"

"Yes. It's where all us imaginary friends come from. I, myself, was an imaginary friend for over six hundred years!" he explained excitedly; at his age and in the circles he traveled, meeting someone who didn't know him was rare and exhilarating. "But I was promoted, you see, and now I oversee some of the bureaucratic functions of Limbo, including doing favors for the Powers That Be, which is how I came to be here tonight."

Elizabeth's head felt like it was spinning. _Limbo? Powers That Be?_

Cosmo seemed to read the confused look on her face and gave forth an unconvincing chuckle. "Oh, but none of that needs to worry you now! I'm here about Fred, you see!"

Elizabeth's attention was caught and her eyes locked onto his. "What about Fred? Where did he go? Is he ok?"

"Oh, Fred's fine!" Cosmo fibbed. "Fit as a fiddle! Or, at least, he will be once he wakes up!"

"Wakes up?" Elizabeth dropped down on the couch, her head already aching. "Maybe you'd care to explain all this to me, Mr. ...uh, A-Go-Go."

"With pleasure!" Cosmo snapped his fingers and a chair, almost as glittery as he was, appeared. He sat down primly, crossing his legs at his ankles. He put a finger on his chin. "Hm, let's see. Where to start?"

"The beginning?" she suggested.

"What, as far back as all that?" Cosmo sighed. "Well, all right. You see, Limbo is a place in the same way that Earth is a place, but it's extremely different. All souls pass through Limbo at one time or another - it's like a big train station - and some go, and some stay, and some pop back and forth between Limbo and the Earth. That last group are called the _pookas._ I've always thought it was a rather silly name, but the ancient Celts are the ones who gave pookas that name, and the ancient Celts were odd fellows. At any rate, the main group of pookas in Limbo are primarily known in your time as imaginary friends. These are the souls that are assigned to help children in difficult situations, if the child is open and imaginative enough to believe, that is. I was a pooka, and your Fred was a pooka as well."

"'Was'? Don't you mean 'is'?"

"No," Cosmo answered simply. "You see, Fred ran into a spot of trouble. Namely, you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"Well I have to say I don't understand what he finds so everloving _fascinating_ about you, myself. You _did_ try to kill him once, and very nearly succeeded," Cosmo responded adroitly. "You see, if you'll think back to when you were a child, Fred was never formally parted from you. Instead, you trapped him for twenty fives years in - what was it, some sort of toy chest?"

"A jack-in-the-box."

"Whatever _that_ is. Anyway, a formal parting must occur between an imaginary friend and his or her charge before he or she can be reassigned to another child. After that happens, the child's memory is erased and the imaginary friend disappears from the child's life."

Comprehension dawned on Elizabeth. "So that's why Natalie doesn't remember Fred?"

"Right. I forced him to formally part last night. Now don't get upset. The little girl was ready to say goodbye. We never part a child and his or her pooka before they're ready, you understand. And the child retains all of their memories of _events_ that their pooka may have been a part of, they just don't recall the pooka themselves."

"But since Fred and I never did that when I was a child...that's why I remembered him as an adult?"

"Yes. It was an _extraordinary_ case, you understand. It's only happened a few other times in history. But you and Fred _did_ finally have a belated formal parting in Limbo when you were an adult."

"That was Limbo?" Elizabeth whispered. "But I thought it was my imagination."

"Oddly, they're practically the same thing on a metaphysical level. That's why it was so easy for you to manipulate your surroundings," Cosmo said. "Anyway, if I don't get on with my story, I'll be here all night. You formally parted from Fred - twenty-five years late, but who's counting? - and he was reassigned to Natalie Bunce. We couldn't erase your memory at that point, because we can't erase an adult's memory. All was going swimmingly, until we realized that even though you could no longer see him or hear him, _he_ still felt some connection to _you._ Didn't you ever feel him around you?"

"Yes," Elizabeth breathed. "Many times. That was really him?"

"Who else would it have been? We warned him, Ms. Cronin. Oh, how I warned that idiot time and again! 'Stay away from her,' I begged him. 'The formal parting can be broken down! The walls will crumble, she'll see you, and then what would happen?' But as you very well know, Fred doesn't listen to _anyone._ If you hadn't still felt a connection to _him -_ if you'd had your memory erased as a child, as it should have been under normal circumstances - then the parting couldn't have ever been broken. But since he still felt a connection to _you,_ and _you_ still felt a connection to _him_ \- "

"That's why I could see him last night?" Elizabeth burst.

"Bonds between spirits can be tricky things," Cosmo tsked. "They can break down _all_ the rules of my beautiful bureaucracy. Rules are simply no match for deep bonds, you see."

"But...where is he now?" Elizabeth asked, almost afraid of the answer. "If he's not Natalie's imaginary friend anymore, where did he go?"

"Wellllll…" Here, Cosmo rose and began to pace. "This is where it gets complicated, Ms. Cronin. You see, Fred broke perhaps _the_ most important rule that was decreed by The Powers That Be for pookas: They cannot show themselves to anyone but their own charges, and they cannot interfere with the life of anyone but their charges." He swiveled to face her. "He did both. To you. By saving your life last night, that last little bit of the wall crumbled away, and the formal parting was broken. That's why you could see him. Not only that, but he interfered in your life by _saving_ it."

"How horrible of him," Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes.

"Not for you, of course. But for him?" Cosmo shook his head grimly. "Fred paid the ultimate price."

Elizabeth shot up off the couch. "No!" she cried. "He's not - you didn't - "

"Oh, calm down! We're not in the habit of killing our pookas, I can assure you! They're too hard to replace." Cosmo resumed his pacing. "No, he was stripped of his magic and decommissioned as a pooka." Seeing the baffled look on her face, he clarified, "He was, in essence, _fired,_ Ms. Cronin."

"You mean he can't be an imaginary friend anymore?" Tears came to her eyes; although it was too bad he was no longer an imaginary friend, she was more upset that now, she'd well and truly never see him again. "So he's...he's in Limbo, now. Forever." She sank back down on the couch. "That means I'll never see him again."

Cosmo's next words took a full ten seconds to register in Elizabeth's brain before she could even begin to process them:

"Oh, tut tut! He's in the bedroom! Go see for yourself!"

She stared up at him incredulously for a moment, and then, as if to disprove his statement, stalked to the bedroom, and threw open the door. There, she was met with sight of a familiar shock of orange hair just barely sticking out from beneath the bedcovers, inert and unmoving. Her heart seemed to skip several beats and her jaw dropped.

"There, you see?" Cosmo said brightly, blinking into the room and materializing next to the bed. "All safe and sound."

"But he - what is - I don't - "

"I suppose I should clarify that for a pooka, the 'ultimate price' means 'becoming mortal again.'"

"' _A-Again'?"_ Elizabeth stammered.

"It's a long story," Cosmo said, shrugging it off.

"But he's...he's asleep?"

"It's much deeper than sleep, Ms. Cronin. Why, a herd of stampeding rhinos parading through the room couldn't wake him at this point! Here, watch!" Cosmo snapped his finger and an air horn appeared in his hand, which he placed next to Fred's ear. An ear-splitting blaring erupted in the room, making Elizabeth clamp her hands over her ears. Fred did not stir. Cosmo grinned. "You see? It's part of the process, you understand. It'll take him a solid day to _really_ wake up. He's...oh, how can I explain it to a mortal in a way they'd understand...he's, well, he's _rebooting,_ so to say." He seemed rather proud of this metaphor.

Elizabeth stared at him, aghast. "He's mortal? You mean, he's _human?"_

"Every bit! And for a pooka that's had magical powers and been able to do whatever he wants for the past century, believe me, it'll be no small amount of adjusting for him." Cosmo threw the air horn at the wall, and the horn disappeared in a puff of mist. "So, I'm leaving him with you, Ms. Cronin. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm under strict orders to make sure he's safe before I leave, and since you're the only one on Earth - or in Limbo, for that matter - that he seems to care one whit for, you were the obvious choice in my mind." He sighed contently, proud of himself for a job well done. "Well! That's it. Best of luck, my dear."

"Wait!" Elizabeth cried as Cosmo began to fade. "Wait a minute, I still have a million questions!"

"You'll figure it all out as you go!" he chimed, fading into nothing before her eyes, leaving she and the sleeping Fred alone in a silent apartment. She stood frozen to the spot for a solid two minutes before timidly venturing forward and lifting the bedcovers slightly.

It was Fred, all right. He looked precisely as she remembered him, except his green suit had been replaced by what looked like very old, very musty clothes of grey and maroon. She leaned towards him until she could feel his warm breath on her cheek and placed her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly but steadily.

Sinking down onto the bed in a seated position, she continued to study him carefully for several moments, wondering if this was all just a strange dream brought on by the exertion and stress of moving to a new place. Her thoughts were interrupted by a brisk knock on the front door.

 _Who even knows I live here?_ she asked herself, irritated at being interrupted at such a - well, such a _strange_ moment in her life - and marched towards the door, intending to immediately ask whoever it was to go away, to leave her alone, couldn't they see she was _terribly busy?_

But that all changed when she beheld the face over the threshold.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Polly Cronin chirped with a dour smile. "Care to invite me inside, or will I be standing here shivering all night?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Mother!" Elizabeth said, flabbergasted.

"Well! It's certainly nice of you to _move_ and not even tell your mother," Polly said, stepping into the apartment, her face immediately falling. "Elizabeth!" she cried, looking around at the empty apartment. "Why, you're living like...like a... _minimalist."_

Elizabeth pursed her lips, taking her mother's coat and bag, throwing it on top of her own on the couch. "Mother, I've been here for all of twenty-four hours. I just haven't had a chance to get any furniture or decorate. Why are you here, anyway? I haven't told anyone my new address except for Mickey."

"I just came from your - or rather, _his_ \- house," Polly noted pointedly, wandering around the small kitchen, her high heels clicking on the bare tile floor. Her lip curled at the two mugs of coffee still sitting on the counter. "Elizabeth, I realize that when one lives alone there's no _real_ impetus to keep up appearances, but one should always be ready for company and not have dirty mugs just sitting around where people can see them."

"Sorry," Elizabeth said somewhat sarcastically, sitting down on the couch. "I just had a...friend stop by."

Polly raised an eyebrow but didn't prod, busying herself with washing out the two mugs and coffee pot. "I stopped by to drop off a few of my old housedresses I thought you could wear to that little office you work in, and to my surprise, Mickey informed me _you had moved out."_ She gave her daughter a searching glance. "I thought things were going well for you two?"

"We just need some time apart, Mother," Elizabeth said quietly, looking down at her fidgeting hands. "You remember how you and I had that talk about boundaries? This is one of them. If I'd wanted the whole world to know, I would have announced it."

"Who's talking about the whole world? I'm talking about your own mother." She set the two mugs on the countertop to dry and began washing the coffee pot. "Not that it's any of my business, of course - "

Elizabeth rolled her eyes; this phrase always seemed to foreshadow a statement about _exactly_ what Polly thought she should do.

" - but you're not getting any younger, Elizabeth, and a single man with a steady job and his own home, especially one who doesn't look like a troglodyte, will get to be more and more of a rare commodity as you get older." She shook the water out of the coffee pot and began to dry it with a hand towel. "That type is in demand at your age, and he won't wait around for you forever."

"Well, neither will I," Elizabeth said with a slight scoff. "Listen Mother, I already made that mistake once. I stayed with someone who wasn't right for me simply because I was scared of ending up alone. I won't do that again. I'd rather be alone than unhappy."

"You say that _now,"_ Polly bleated. "Wait until you're almost forty and see if you still feel that way." Her work at the sink done, she gathered up the bag she had brought. "I'll just go put these in your closet, Elizabeth. You can try them on later."

Elizabeth nodded absently, her thoughts far away, only snapping out of it when she realized who was laying in her bed. "Don't go in there!" she shrieked just as her mother opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Elizabeth shut her eyes, awaiting the inevitable, which came just a moment later.

All of the color in Polly's face had drained as she stepped back out into the living room. "Elizabeth," she said in a low voice. "There's a man in your bed."

Elizabeth sighed. "I know, Mother."

"You _just_ moved out of Mickey's house, and already have another...another... _suitor?"_ The horrified expression was frozen on her face. "So _that's_ who had the other coffee mug? Elizabeth Jane Cronin! You ought to be _ashamed_ of yourself!"

"Mother, relax. He's just a visiting friend, that's all."

"A visiting male 'friend' who is fast asleep in your bed the day after you moved out of your boyfriend's house?" Polly's voice bordered on shrill.

"What's the use in explaining? You wouldn't believe me." Elizabeth closed her eyes. "No one would, as a matter of fact."

"Sometimes I just don't understand you at all," Polly murmured, grabbing her coat off the coach angrily and throwing it on. "I'll leave you to - to whatever the hell is going on here. But don't come crying to me when Mickey realizes you've already got a new boyfriend. You know, he's under the impression that you two are still together!"

"We are!" She stood. "I really don't think this is anyone's business but mine and Mickey's!"

"Fine, Elizabeth," Polly said in a mock-ingratiating tone. "Whatever you say. I'll leave you to your new lover and your empty apartment. I hope you'll be _very_ happy."

With that, Polly disappeared, slamming the door shut behind her. Elizabeth released a breath and went back to the bedroom to find Fred was still in the same position and unmoving in her bed. "Great," she muttered.

She tugged the comforter off the bed - deciding that Fred would live if he only had the top sheet on him - and trudged to the couch, trying her best to puff up the two throw pillows into some semblance of a comfortable place to rest her head. She shut off the lights and immediately drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She was awoken at dawn by the shriek of her alarm clock in the other room. Groaning and trying to sit up with the stiff back that came from a night on the cheap couch, she dragged herself into the bedroom, yawning wide, and screamed at the top of her lungs when she caught sight of Fred sitting straight up in bed, eyes like saucer plates.

"Fred?" she yelled above the din of the alarm clock. He didn't move and didn't seem to notice her at all. After rounding the side of the bed and switching off the alarm, she then stood in front of him, waving her hand back and forth.

Unblinking and unmoving, Fred didn't take any notice of her. She then ventured a poke at his shoulder, and again he made no motion to indicate he had any idea she was there. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were wide open, but he didn't seem to be conscious at all.

"Freaky," she muttered, studying him as though he were a specimen under a microscope. The clothes that hung off his frame were little better than rags, she now noticed in the early morning light. At one time, perhaps, it had been a respectable three piece suit, old-fashioned to be sure, but decent nonetheless. Now, the clothes were filthy and torn in several places. His orange hair still stuck straight up all over his head as it always had, although it looked slightly tamer than she remembered it. One foot poked out of the top sheet, and was clothed in a bedraggled looking boot whose sole had worn clean through in two spots, showing bits of flesh on the bottom of his foot. All in all, she thought, he looked like some poor wastrel out of a Dickens novel.

"Fred?" she whispered right in his face, but his eyes registered nothing. Then, as though someone had turned off the lightswitch in his head, he collapsed back to the bed, his eyes slammed shut, and once again, he was an inert mass.

She quickly decided to call in sick to work; she couldn't just leave a catatonic Fred in her bed all day with no clue as to when he'd finally wake up, and she was sure that once he _did_ wake up, he'd had just as many questions as she did. Some part of her was admittedly - even, maybe, a little ashamedly - thrilled at the thought of getting to converse with her old friend again after so long, even if he _was_ human now, and who knew what type of trouble that would bring in its wake.

Taking the wall phone off the hook, she quickly dialed the office and did a passable impression of someone who had just woken up with a terrible cold and was in desperate need of a sick day. Her supervisor, a crabby middle-aged man who had once harbored dreams of being a high-powered lawyer but had found himself, at forty-six, instead as a glorified pencil-pusher in a failing law office, took a small amount of glee in asking - repeatedly - what the problem was, and when she would be back, as though she were asking for a six month sabbatical to backpack through Europe. She managed to convince him that she was ill - on the very precipice of death - and at last he relented. She then caught sight of a bundle of papers on top of the counter in front of her.

A small, handwritten note on top read: _These are for Fred. He'll need them. - C_

Frowning and tossing aside the note, which she could only assume to be from Cosmo, she began to rifle through the papers and very quickly discovered that they were documents like a birth certificate, passport and the like. Cosmo was right, Elizabeth thought: if Fred was now human, he _would_ need things like this. She tucked the papers away in a drawer for safe-keeping just as the phone began to ring. Curious as to who would be calling so early, she answered with a quiet, "Hello?"

"Lizzie? It's Janie."

"Janie. Everything ok?"

"Fine, except I just ran into your mother at the bakery."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "Oh. Then I'm sure she didn't hesitate to tell you - "

"Lizzie, listen, I'm all for female sexual empowerment, but honey, don't you think you're moving a _little_ fast?" Janie's voice sounded alert despite the early hour. "I mean, you left Mickey, what, two days ago? Rebounds are never worth it. Trust me, I've had plenty."

"He's not - it's not - look, it's not at all what you or she thinks." She held the receiver closer to her mouth and whispered, "Janie, can you come here on your lunch break? I've got to tell someone about this or I think I'll explode."

"Lizzie, spare me the bedroom details, ok? Anyway, aren't you going to work?"

"No, I - I wanted to stay at home today."

"Holy shit, is he really that good? Jesus, maybe I _do_ want to hear the details. All right, listen, I'll be there around 12:30. Will...will _he_ be there?"

She grimaced. "Well...I _think_ so, yeah."

"Ok. See you then, honey. Kisses. Bye-bye."

Thereby passed a dull morning that consisted of Elizabeth making phone calls to various furniture and electronic stores and arranging for purchase and delivery of a few items she felt were essential to a comfortable apartment. Somewhat impulsively, she also ordered a couch with a pull-out bed. This done, and not wanting to leave the apartment, she stole glances in the bedroom every few minutes, and each time found Fred in exactly the same state he'd been in all morning. She felt herself getting a little antsy and practicing what she'd say to him when he finally did wake up, whenever that might be.

12:30 finally arrived and with it a light knock on the front door. She skittered over to it and threw it open to find Janie on the other side, looking inquisitive.

"I've only got an hour, kid, so spill it. Spill it _all,"_ Janie said in lieu of a greeting as she stepped inside and sat on the couch. "Don't leave out any of the sordid details. Wait, let me guess! You met him in some totally unexpected place, like the frozen food section of the grocery store, or - no, wait, you and he reached for the same packet of soy sauce at the Chinese take-away place down the street. Well? Was it love at first sight? Lust at first sight?"

"Janie, calm down," Elizabeth said, sitting next to her. "It's nothing like that. I mean, he's not - we're not - listen. This is going to sound crazy, ok?"

Janie huffed as she set her purse on the floor and settled back into the couch. "Lizzie, please. You see imaginary beings and tell me about them. _Nothing_ will sound crazy after that."

"That's just it, Janie."

This caused Janie to look over at her, and study her closely. "Elizabeth, spill it," she repeated, this time much more firmly. "I missed out on a lunch date with a very important client for this."

"It's...well, it's…" She licked her lips nervously. "It's Fred, Janie. It's _him._ It's Drop Dead Fred. He's in my room, in my bed, and - "

"Wait a minute." Janie put a hand on Elizabeth's lap. "This has gone far enough, now. I know you think you've heard him and seen him, but Lizzie, he's not _real._ You can't tell me he's _in your bed."_

"But he is!" Elizabeth shot back. "Listen, I know how insane this makes me sound, ok? But if you're my friend, I need you to at least listen to me, even if you don't believe me right now."

Janie sighed. "All right," she relented. "But this better be good."

Thereby followed a rehashing of events over the past twenty four hours: of Cosmo A-Go-Go and the extraordinary things he'd told Elizabeth about Limbo, The Powers That Be, and Fred; about how Fred was now a mortal as a kind of punishment for interfering in her life; about how he'd sat straight up in bed and collapsed just as quickly. Janie's expression went from incredulous, to anxious, to downright perplexed throughout the spiel, and by the end as the clock struck one o'clock, she was almost speechless.

"Elizabeth," she said slowly. "Are you feeling ok?"

Exasperated, Elizabeth abruptly stood up and grabbed Janie's hand. "Come on," she urged. "I'll show you."

She pulled her best friend into the bedroom and pointed to the unconscious form of Fred still laying in the bed. Janie gawked at him. "Jesus Christ," she muttered, pawing at his clothes. "Did he walk off the set of a movie about street tramps of the 19th century or something?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth said in a voice that bordered on a moan. "I don't know what to do, Janie."

"Have you told Mickey?"

"What? No! I'm not telling anyone until I can figure this out. You're the only one who knows, and it's going to stay that way for as long as I can manage it."

This was punctuated with Fred's eyes suddenly flying open and landing on the two women standing over him. A thundering scream erupted from him, and he was soon joined by Elizabeth and Janie, who both leapt back as though he were a feral animal. The scream soon died away in his throat and again he fell unconscious.

Janie clutched at her chest. "Jesus Christ," she muttered again. "Call the police or something, Elizabeth! You've got a crazy homeless guy in your bed!"

"He's not - ok, well he _is_ sort of crazy and without a home at the moment, but it's Fred," she explained, her heart rate starting to return to normal. "It's Fred, and I'm pretty sure he's going to need me when he finally wakes up."

"You mean _if_ he wakes up." Janie strode out of the room and didn't stop until her hand was on the doorknob of the front door. "For all you know, they messed something up in the process of turning him human, and maybe he'll just scream once in awhile then pass out, over and over again, forever!"

"Cosmo said it would take a day or so for him to totally come out of it," Elizabeth said. "And at that point, we'll - I mean, I'll - figure out what to do."

Janie seemed lost for words for a moment before putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Listen, I'm not going to pretend I understand even half of what's going on here, but if you're _certain_ he's your friend, then just promise me you'll be safe, ok? And the _second_ it seems like he's out of control, get out of this apartment and go to the police. Promise?"

"Promise, promise," Elizabeth returned hurriedly. "Janie, can you come back tonight? Please?"

Looking wary but agreeing for the sake of their friendship, Janie left a moment later, leaving Elizabeth standing at the front door, throwing a worried look over her shoulder, unsure of what to expect next.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed in silence. Elizabeth continued to check on Fred every few moments, and the routine was only interrupted once during the delivery of the dining room table and chairs she had ordered that morning ("Boy, you guys weren't kidding about same day delivery," she joked with the grim-faced delivery men as she signed the delivery confirmation slip). Around five o'clock, her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten all day, and she began to warm up some tomato soup when she heard it: the telltale sounds of someone shuffling around in the other room.

Carefully, she eased open the bedroom door until she could slip inside and was rewarded with the sight of Fred gazing at himself in the standing mirror in the corner of the room, his face unreadable.

"F-Fred?" she called softly.

He turned slowly to face her. "Elizabeth," he replied, just as softly.

This was all the encouragement she needed and despite her trepidation, she soon found herself leaping across the room and enveloping him in a bear hug. "Fred!" she breathed, holding him tight. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Elizabeth," he repeated in the same tone, as though he were a broken record. "Elizabeth."

His eyes were stormy and faraway, she noticed with a slight frown. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Elizabeth."

A little unnerved, she nevertheless gently guided him to the new dining room table and sat him down in one of the chairs. He threw a few inquisitive glances around but said nothing as she placed a bowl of steaming tomato soup in front of him and handed him a spoon. He looked at the strange article in his hand as though he'd never seen a spoon before, and she had to guide his hand to scoop some of the soup up to his mouth, as though he were a toddler.

"Go on," she said encouragingly. "Go on, have some. It's good."

Fred suddenly stopped moving, and before she could brace herself, he passed out at the table, knocking the full bowl of soup on the white carpet and slamming his head on the table. Neither of them moved for a moment, Elizabeth crouched down at his side, Fred unconscious with his head and hand resting on the tabletop.

"Shit," she muttered, staring down at the mess on the carpet.

She arranged him in such a way that he wouldn't topple over and got to work sopping up as much of the soup as she could when a knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she hurried over to the door, using the peephole before opening it, and let Janie in.

"Well?" she asked immediately. Her eyes found Fred slumped at the table. "Oh my God. Did you poison him?"

"No, he just passed out again!" she explained. "Knocked a full bowl of soup onto the carpet. Not even two days into my lease and I already know I'm not going to get my deposit back."

"Well no worries, I brought Thai," Janie said, holding up the takeout bag in her hand. "Figured you probably didn't have many groceries yet. Shall we dine next to the passed out homeless man?"

"Sounds charming," Elizabeth retorted.

They ate their dinner and chatted almost as normally as if there hadn't been a fully-humanized, unconscious imaginary friend draped across the tabletop, with Janie harping on some problems at work and Elizabeth making concerned noises, as she now knew how complicated and dramatic the world of law could be. As they were cleaning up, a loud, prolonged groan suddenly emerged from Fred.

"Oh Jesus," he muttered as he sat up, clutching his head. "I forgot what headaches felt like. Fucking beastly, I remember now."

Janie stared at him as though he were a re-animated corpse, a fork still clutched in her hand. Elizabeth did much the same from her position in the kitchen.

Fred huffed a few times, blinking hard, then his bleary eyes settled on Janie next to him. His eyes widened. "Who the hell are _you?"_

"I could ask you the same question!" she declared without missing a beat.

Fred looked about frantically until his eyes fell on Elizabeth. "Snotface!" he bellowed. "Where the hell am I? What's going on?"

"Relax, Fred!" Elizabeth raced to his side, enveloping him in a hug which he readily accepted, much to her surprise. "Cosmo said you'd be out of sorts when you finally came out of it."

"Cosmo? That bastard? _He's_ the reason I'm here!" Fred wailed, now catching sight of his clothes, which he tugged at frantically, having always hated the clothes from his former life. " _He's_ the reason I've been - I've been _exiled!"_

"Then it's all true?" Janie practically shouted. "All of that nonsense about Limbo and pookas and being made mortal?"

"Look at this! I mean _look_ at this!" Fred exclaimed, leaping up from the chair and looking down at himself. "I'm all _fleshy_ now! All _human!_ God, it's _disgusting!_ I can't even do _magic_ anymore! Watch this!" He snapped his fingers, willing himself to blink into another room, and remained right where he was standing. "Look at that! Just like every other stupid, disgusting, boring _mortal_ on Earth!"

Janie was doing all she could to remain very, very calm. "So," she started placidly. "Let me get this straight. You - " here, she pointed at Fred, " - were _her - "_ she pointed at Elizabeth, " - imaginary friend as a child. The same imaginary friend that came back when she was an adult?"

"What do you think I am, some sort of creep who just _hangs_ around Snotface because I _like_ her? Not bloody likely!" Fred spat. "Of course I am! I'm Drop Dead Fred!"

Janie stood. "And that means _you're_ the one who sunk my house boat?"

Fred had to cast his mind back to that day, but he had to admit, that had been an impressive feat, even for him. He struck an indignant pose. "Yeah?" he asked in a smarmy voice. "So what?"

She approached him slowly, a stern look on her face. He backed away instinctively, but she reached out for him and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you!" she cried. "Thank you! Hell, I'll be able to retire a decade early because of you!"

He pushed her away, giving her a strange look. "You've got weird friends, Snotface," he told Elizabeth, who was grinning from ear to ear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The sleeping arrangements that night, truth be told, were a somewhat contentious debate.

Though she was glad to see her old friend again, Elizabeth's body ached from the cumulative effect of several nights without a decent rest, and seeing as how this was _her_ apartment, she - politely, she thought - suggested to Fred that perhaps _he_ wouldn't mind taking the couch that night and using a few coats as a blanket, until the pull-out couch arrived tomorrow and with it, she promised, fluffy blankets and pillows. Brand new.

Fred countered that _he_ was the one who had just woken up as a blasted _human,_ of all things, and how was she so certain that he was finished _rebooting,_ whatever that was (she tried, in vain, to explain this metaphor to him), and that he needed a decent night's rest every bit as much as she did.

Janie settled this by suggesting a coin toss, which Fred promptly lost and demanded best two out of three. He still lost. Thus, within an hour of his first dinner - Thai food, whatever the hell that was - he was curled up on the sofa, using his arm as a pillow and draped with two winter coats in lieu of blankets.

Fine way for his first night as a human to end.

The dawn light streamed in through Elizabeth's bedroom windows and she awoke with a startle from a deep sleep, feeling refreshed despite the quick awakening. For a moment, she almost convinced herself that the previous day - hell, the previous two days - had all just been a strange dream.

But when she emerged from the bedroom to find Fred asleep and snoring on the couch, a bit of drool pooling on his sleeve which was tucked up against his face, her heart stopped momentarily.

It wasn't a dream.

"Fred?" she called softly. The snoring faded into a snort, and blinking rapidly, Fred's eyes opened and his face fell.

"Oh, _Christ,"_ he muttered, glancing around the room. "It wasn't a dream."

"That was my first thought too," she admitted, sitting down gingerly on the arm of the sofa. She shrugged. "So, uh, good morning."

"What's good about it?" he demanded, struggling into a seated position and clutching his head, which still hurt like hell.

"Good? Well, maybe because I've got my friend back," Elizabeth responded in a pleasant voice. "Listen, I know all of this is pretty weird, but I can't lie and say it isn't good to see you again." She looked down at her hands. "I really missed you, Fred."

"Well that makes one of us," he muttered miserably, trying to identify the urgent feeling in his abdomen region. Dimly, he was aware that the sensation was familiar, he just couldn't pinpoint it. He scratched the side of his head fiercely. "So what now, Snotface?"

She shrugged, feeling as helpless as he looked. "Not sure. I guess we just take this step by step."

He twitched, the sensation becoming sharper. Elizabeth frowned.

"You ok, Fred?"

"I'm just effing great," he mumbled, rising to his feet unsteadily. "Why do I feel like I'm going to explode, Snotface?"

"Do you...uh, do you have to pee?"

 _That's_ the sensation, Fred remembered. He had to pee. Really, really badly. Without a word, he stumbled towards the bathroom and took care of business, not bothering to close the door or wash his hands. When he re-emerged, Elizabeth's face was buried in her hands.

"Ok, first rule of being human in my apartment, Fred: close the door when you're going to the bathroom, and wash your hands," she said. "Also, flush the toilet."

"Well la de dah," Fred said. "That seems entirely unreasonable first thing in the morning. How are you supposed to _remember_ all those things?"

"You'll learn. I mean, if you're going to become a functioning human."

"Yeah, well, I was never very good at that," Fred replied cryptically with a yawn. "So what does a _functioning human_ do first thing in the morning?"

"You mean besides practice basic hygiene? Well, breakfast is usually a pretty good start. I've got some eggs and bacon."

That sounded more like it to Fred, who, after grudgingly washing his hands, sat at the small table and waited impatiently while Elizabeth cooked them both breakfast. He practically inhaled it, as though a great pit had opened in his stomach and his sole purpose in life was to fill it, and asked for seconds, which Elizabeth made without protest. She watched him eat, her face twisted a bit in disgust.

"Most people use silverware for the eggs at least," she pointed out to him, watching him shove bits of scrambled egg directly into his mouth using his hands.

"I don't think I'm going to like these human rules much."

She pursed her lips and gathered up their plates. "I think I'm going to have to fake being sick again, Fred. Something tells me today isn't a good day to leave you alone. Plus we've got to get you some new clothes. Those are..." She scanned his form. "...not going to work."

* * *

After a quick call to her office - again affecting the cough and general malaise that comes with a heavy, though entirely fictional, cold, and again having to fend off a myriad of questions from her suspicious supervisor - Elizabeth stuffed Fred into her car and sped off towards the nearest mall.

"Now that I'm human, Snotface, you oughta teach me how to drive this thing," Fred suggested cheerily, looking greedily over at the steering wheel. "I bet we'd get there a _lot_ faster if I drove. Why don't you just take that shortcut through there?"

She looked to where he was gesturing out the window and gave him a flat look. "Because it's a field, Fred. I can't drive through a field."

"Why not?" Fred asked indignantly. "There can't be more than a few dozen cows in it."

"It's fenced. And illegal."

"Only illegal if someone _catches_ you," he corrected her primly, folding his hands in his lap. "And I bet the fence would explode if you hit it going fast enough."

Elizabeth made a mental note to never let Fred behind the wheel and breathed a sigh of relief as the mall rose on the horizon. "We just need to get you a few simple outfits, Fred. Jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts. Maybe one suit."

"Can I get that type of underwear with the days of the week written on them? You know, one pair says 'Wednesday', one pair says 'Saturday' - "

"Not sure they make those for grown men, Fred."

"Seems like a lost opportunity," he sniffed. "Hey, I know! Let's stop at that store up there and get some bubble bath, then we'll dump the whole bottle in the fountains at the mall!" He snickered. "It'll be great! No one will be able to catch us because they'll be too busy slipping and falling on their arses!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Why _not?"_ he repeated snappishly. "Is this how it's going to be, Snotface? You ruining all my fun?"

"When your fun ruins other people's day, yes." She pulled deftly into a parking lot and turned off the ignition, turning to him. "Listen, if you're going to be human, you can't cause the kind of chaos you did when you were invisible to everyone except me."

"Chaos is what I'm good at!" he protested. "And anyway, it's not exactly _chaos_. It's _performance art."_

"Try telling that to the mall cops. Come on."

She dragged him inside, trying to ignore the strange looks they were getting as people stared at Fred's clothes and the obscene hand signals he shot back at them, and practically shoved him into the first clothing store that appeared. Knowing that she only had a small amount of time before the inevitable trouble that arose from her companion, she made educated guesses on size, throwing several pairs of pants and shirts into a cart, and then turning to find that Fred was nowhere to be seen.

"Fred?" she called loudly, throwing darting glances around her. Except for the sounds of other people shopping and the muzak filtering through the speakers, the department store was quiet. A chill ran up her spine.

Pushing the cart frantically down the aisles and calling Fred's name, she had just passed a row of dressing rooms when one of the doors flew open and Fred emerged triumphantly wearing a hideous green plaid sports jacket, a paisley dress shirt, and neon pants which looked two sizes too small and entirely too short.

"Snotface!" he crowed happily, doing a little twirl. "I've found my first outfit!"

She resisted the urge to cringe. "Fred, it looks like a textile factory threw up all over you."

"Sir?" They both turned to find a short store attendant standing nervously near them, clutching a mound of equally awful-looking clothes in bright, loud colors. "We don't carry spats, I'm afraid, and we're out of bow ties. But I found more of the types of clothes you requested."

"What kind of store _is_ this?" Fred thundered. "How's a man going to look his best without spats and a bow tie, I'd like to know?"

Elizabeth gave the store attendant an apologetic simper. "He's got a wear-your-ugliest-outfit-to-work party tomorrow."

By this time Fred was digging through the clothes Elizabeth had in the cart and throwing them carelessly over his shoulder. "Ugly. Boring. _Khakis?_ What sort of man do you think I am, Snotface?"

"Is there a problem?"

The store manager - so identified by his nametag - seemed to materialize in front of them, a curt look on his face.

"Oh, no - no problem, sir," Elizabeth answered, frantically picking up the clothes as fast as Fred threw them. "Just - my friend here needs a few essentials, and - "

"Listen here," Fred interrupted, stepping forward until he was mere inches from the manager's stern expression. "I'm looking for some _real_ clothes. Not this tat. Look at this. _Look at this._ This sweater has a picture of a basket of bunnies. These pants have _no_ sequins on them. For God's sake, man, where's your dignity?"

"I'd be happy to help you find what you're looking for," the manager responded in a tight voice, "But I'd ask you stop making a scene and throwing our merchandise on the floor."

"That's where it belongs!" Fred countered. "And if I hadn't just peed in the dressing room, I'd pee on that pile of tat!"

Thirty seconds later saw the expulsion of Elizabeth and Fred from the store, with a lifetime ban to boot. Fred smarted from the sudden parting of him and his fabulous outfit, and he sulked near the pretzel stand as Elizabeth rubbed her temples.

"Just for _once_ can you try to act civil?" she hissed at him. "It's not like it used to be - I'm not the only one who can see you anymore!"

A lady munching on a pretzel turned to stare at them.

"Yes, I _know_ that!" Fred cried. "But it's not my fault I've been stripped of my magic!"

The lady stopped mid-chew.

"Listen, I'm sorry about your magic, but you're not invisible anymore! So you can't just do whatever you want!"

Pretzel Lady slowly put her pretzel down, grabbed her bag, and began walking briskly towards the mall security booth on the other side of the mall.

"I'm only trying to help you!" Elizabeth said in a frustrated tone. "Can you promise me you'll just be normal for an hour or so while we get you some clothes? Please? _Just_ an hour?"

Fred frowned. Elizabeth sighed in defeat.

"All right, look. You stay here. I'll go get you some clothes and things, and then we'll head back to the apartment, where you can be as weird as you want, ok?"

The red-headed man uncrossed his arms and looked hopeful. "Can you get me one of those big pretzels, Snotface?"

Pretzel purchased and given to Fred, who promised to stay quiet until she could head into another department store, Elizabeth darted in and filled a cart with clothes, a toothbrush, a comb, shampoo and a few other things before paying as quickly as possible. Bags in hand, she practically ran out to the middle of the mall where she'd left Fred to find him innocently sitting on the edge of a fountain and munching the last of his pretzel.

"What happened?" she asked in a breathless voice. "Is everything ok?"

He gave her a bewildered look. "It's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know...because it's _you?"_

"I've been a perfect gentleman. Here, want the last of this pretzel?"

"No, I just - "

"Wow! Mama! Look!" a child's voice rang out from the other side of the fountain. Hesitatingly, Elizabeth peered around Fred to find that the fountain was fast filling up with bubbles and starting to spill over the side.

"Fred…" she murmured. "Please tell me you didn't…"

Fred didn't get a chance to respond to this, as a moment later three mall cops, trailed by the woman who had overhead Fred and Elizabeth at the pretzel stand, descended on the scene. The excited whoops of children grew louder as the bubble mountain grew and grew, spilling freely over the side of the fountain.

And it was then that she also caught sight of Mickey and Natalie, standing nearby and gaping at her with jaws nearly to the floor. Elizabeth put her face in her hands.

* * *

"Well! That was fun!" Fred said happily as Elizabeth slowly pulled out of the mall parking lot.

"Fun? Not only do we nearly get arrested because you just _had_ to put some bubble bath in the fountain - "

"Performance art! Plus the bath shop'll never miss it."

" - BUT all of the security guards at the mall think we're _crazy_ for talking about magic and invisibility - "

"Little do _they_ know, eh Snotface?"

" - not to mention the fact that _my boyfriend_ saw all of it, and saw me with _you,_ and heaven knows _what_ he'll think." She heaved a tired sigh. "It's not even noon, Fred, and I already want to crawl under the covers and never crawl out again."

"Why are you still hanging around with Fartpants anyway, hm?" Fred dug out a candybar that he'd also liberated from a snack stall on the way back from the bath shop and bit into it. "He's no fun."

"No, he isn't a _walking disaster_ like you!" she snapped. "That doesn't mean he isn't fun!"

"Oh yeah? Name _one_ fun thing you've ever done with Fartpants. G'on. Name it."

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. "We - we went to the fair last year. We rode a ferris wheel." Gritting her teeth, she stammeringly continued, "And...and we carved pumpkins on Halloween. He bought an ice cream maker and we made ice cream a few times."

Fred gave her a sly, knowing glance. "You and me used to hang out in trees and drip White-Out onto people below so they'd think a bird shit on them. Remember that snake we found in the garden and we put it under your mother's pillow? Or the time we glued your teacher's butt to her chair, and she had to sit like that until the janitor came, and _then_ she ripped her skirt getting up and had to walk 'round all day with her underwear hanging out?" He chuckled. " _That's_ fun."

" _That's_ childish pranks."

"Come on, we've had loads of fun as grown-ups too!"

"They were fun for you because you didn't have to deal with the consequences!" she growled. "But now that you're human, _you'll_ have to deal with them, too. And it won't be so much fun."

"Oh, get the stick outta your arse. Did you see the look on Natalie's face when she saw all those bubbles?" He laughed louder this time. "I guarantee she had more fun than she would on a _ferris wheel."_

"She doesn't remember you, you know," she said in an angrier tone than she'd intended. "All her memories of you - even the good ones - they're all gone. Understand? You were erased. Just like you've been erased from everyone."

Fred didn't respond for a moment, his face looking slightly crestfallen. "I _know_ that," he finally retorted haughtily. "What's your point?"

"It just seems to me that if no one remembers the good parts of you, no one has any reason to put up with the bad."

"I haven't got any bad parts!" Fred argued. "I did my job!"

"And then you got fired. Ok? Do you understand? You don't have that excuse to fall back on anymore." She swung into the apartment complex and threw the car into park somewhat aggressively. "And if all I'm going to get are the _bad_ parts of you, then…"

Fred watched her carefully. "Then what?" he said quietly.

"Nothing," Elizabeth whispered, not meeting his eye. "Just - let's get back inside, ok?"

The new sleeper sofa had arrived, along with a TV, TV stand and a few other pieces, making the apartment seem almost like a home. Elizabeth busied herself hanging the curtains in her bedroom, more as an excuse to avoid Fred for a while than anything while she thought through their day. She gravitated between feeling remorseful about her outburst at Fred and a burning indignation that she was _right,_ dammit, and he was just going to have to hear some hard truths about being human. That's what friends were for, right? To tell you the truth when no one else would, or could?

About an hour after returning from the mall, she heard the front door close softly and peeked out of one of the bedroom windows to spy Fred walking down the street, still in his strange attire, hands in his pockets, eyes to the ground. She bit her lip as she watched her best childhood friend lope along, completely alone in the world except for her, and tried to imagine what it would be like to be suddenly stripped of your life's work, your magic...so much of what made you _you._ And to have just _one_ person on Earth that gave any sort of a damn about you, and that you gave any sort of a damn _about_.

And then to have that one person throw it all back in your face.

She wasn't sure why Fred's questions about Mickey had made her so angry; perhaps it was because those were the same sorts of thoughts that had been rattling around in her head for months and she didn't quite feel up to facing them. Fred made her so angry she could barely see straight sometimes - but he was still her friend. Her best friend, even.

Not to mention, he had always had the uncanny knack of seeing right through her, even when she had almost convinced herself of something she knew full well to be a lie.

When Fred entered the apartment again an hour later, she was sitting on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, looking deep in thought.

"Listen, about being erased and all of that…" Fred started, not even bothering with a hello. She didn't turn to look at him, and continued looking down at the carpet. "I know that going in, ok? _Knew_ that, rather. Expected it. It was one of the Rules." He sighed. "But my charges always retained the memories themselves. Right? They remember the good memories. Just...not with me _in_ them."

Elizabeth didn't say anything.

"But that's how it works, and it was for the best," he continued, hands shoved deeply in his pockets. "Because _then,_ kids believe that they did those things on their own. They could believe in how imaginative they were, how inventive. How they solved problems on their own. Bucked convention on their own. Elizabeth, listen." He placed a hand on her arm, and she stilled. "Think back to your childhood. You can remember me, but imagine if you didn't. Imagine if you believed you'd made up all those games on your own. How you learned to defy your mother, on your own. Learned how to be independent, all on your own. Don't you think your childhood would have been the better for having me in it, even if you didn't remember me?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, looking down at his hand and thinking over his question carefully.

"And maybe if I _had_ been erased from your memory - if you'd _only_ been left with the memories of having done all those things _completely on your own..._ don't you think your life would have been easier? That it wouldn't have taken you as long to realize what was good for you, and what was bad? If you _believed_ you'd learned early on - _all on your own -_ that you can't live solely to make other people happy...wouldn't you have been the better for it?"

"Fred, what exactly is it you're trying to say?" she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"I mean - Elizabeth, look at me." He knelt down beside her, looking deep into her eyes. His tone was even, calm - the way it had been in Limbo, before they'd said the goodbyes she'd assumed were forever. "I mean I'm sorry that it didn't happen that way. It didn't happen the way it was supposed to. Or maybe it did. I don't know. That's not something anyone can really know - what their life would have looked like if they'd taken a different path. Even my _own_ life, I - " He stopped, and took another breath. "It's ok if Nat doesn't remember me. It's ok if none of my charges do. I'm not important enough to justify it. But _you_ remember me, because maybe - just _maybe_ , mind - I'm important, if only to you. And I'm glad, Lizzie. "

She studied him carefully for a moment, tears gathering in her eyes. After a beat, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. "I am too," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Fred. I didn't realize that you...you felt that way about the work you did. I didn't mean to hurt you." She looked up at his face in surprise to find a few small tears hovering on the edges of his eyes. "Are you going to miss it?"

He huffed a cheerless laugh. "Every. Single. Day," he whispered.

She felt a wave of sudden guilt that, however indirectly, she was the one responsible for pulling him away from that work, forever. However, it didn't last long as a knock sounded on the door, and without thinking, she crossed the room and opened it.

"Lizzie!" Mickey burst, striding into the apartment like it was his own. "I thought I saw you today at the mall, but you were with - "

Here, he stopped dead as he caught sight of an unfamiliar man standing in the living room, staring at him.

"Who's this?" Mickey demanded.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Mickey!" Elizabeth cried, her eyes darting from Mickey, to Fred, and back to Mickey. "I, uh, was just about to call you!"

Fred was uncharacteristically quiet, rubbing the back of his neck and seeming to appraise Mickey coolly with his eyes as Mickey did the same to him. Finally, Mickey turned back to Elizabeth.

"Was it you I saw in the mall? With all those mall cops around?" he asked. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine! Fine!" she lied quickly, doing her best to give him a cheerful smile. After an awkward beat, she hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, feeling Fred's eyes on her as she did so. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too," Mickey said earnestly, breaking the hug and giving her a worried look. "Nat misses you, Lizzie. She wants to know why we haven't seen or heard from you in a few days."

"I had, well, an unexpected visitor," she stammered, motioning to Fred. "This is Fred. Old college friend of mine who stopped by for a short visit."

Mickey watched her carefully, his eyes telling her he didn't quite believe her, and nodded to Fred. "Fred. Good to meet you." He stuck his hand out. "Lizzie didn't tell me you were coming to town."

Fred gave Mickey a limp handshake. "Yeah, well…I wasn't exactly expecting it, either."

"He, uh, just lost his job," Elizabeth explained, trying to hold onto Mickey's hand with her sweaty one, aware that the sensation was as strange as if she'd been trying to hold a slippery dog toy. "He needed a place to stay for a few days."

Mickey's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at Fred. "I see," he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the red-haired man. "But the mall, Lizzie. What happened?"

"Oh! Uh..." She frantically searched her mind for something plausible-sounding. "You know mall cops. They think me and Fred put bubbles in the fountain." She rolled her eyes and giggled in what she hoped was a convincing way, as though the idea was ludicrous. "Probably just a prank by a kid."

"Yeah," Mickey chuckled, finally looking around the apartment. "Sounds like something Nat would have done when she was younger."

Fred shot a triumphant _I told you so!_ look at Elizabeth, which went unnoticed by Mickey, who had begun slowly walking around the apartment.

"This is nice, Lizzie," he murmured. "You've only been here a few days and it already looks so...permanent."

Elizabeth's expression faded and she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Um, Fred?" she asked quietly. "This might be a good time for that walk you wanted to take around the complex?"

Fred looked confused. "Walk?"

"Yes," she said, with an edge. "You said you wanted to _take a walk around the apartment complex?_ Remember?"

Fred toyed with the notion of denying it, or saying something smarmy about having _just_ returned from a bleedin' walk, but the look on Mickey's face broached no argument; whatever was happening between his Snotface and Fartpants needed to happen in private. He supposed it was the least he could do. "Yes! Right!" he said, snapping his fingers as if in recognition after a beat. "A walk! Grand idea, Snotface."

She cringed a little at the nickname, said as it was in front of Mickey, and quickly threw open the door. Fred took his time waltzing out of the apartment, giving her a small wave as he disappeared across the threshold. She immediately shut the door.

"Mickey, look - "

"Ok, first off, _who the hell is that?"_ Mickey said, motioning angrily towards the door.

"I know what it looks like, Mickey, but I _swear_ to you it isn't that. I promise, ok?"

"Then _what is it?"_ Mickey sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "God, Lizzie, I come over here to see if everything's ok because I haven't heard a peep from you in nearly three days, and I walk in to find another guy in your apartment - the apartment, might I add, that looks as though you're not planning on moving out anytime soon!" He turned to her. "Tell me the truth, Lizzie. You owe me that, at least. Are you and this Fred guy - listen, was this whole move planned? Are you having an affair? Is _that_ why you left?"

"No!" Elizabeth cried, clutching his arm. "Mickey, I swear that isn't it. Please. He really did just drop in unexpectedly. I honestly thought I'd never seen him again and then poof! There he was! And he didn't have anywhere to go; please believe me when I say that he didn't have any options. He and I used to be best friends, Mickey. He...he helped me through a few very difficult times in my life. I couldn't turn my back on him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did." She pulled her boyfriend in for a hug, this one genuine. "Please, you know I'd never do that to you. I'd never, ever hurt you like that. I'd never do to you what Charles did to me."

The mention of this painful memory made Mickey stop for a moment and wrap his arms protectively around Elizabeth, who began to sob against his chest.

"It's all right, Lizzie," he murmured. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She sniffed and held him closer. She hadn't meant for the bit about Charles to slip out, but it was true nonetheless. Though it had been over a year since the divorce and she had never regretted it for a moment, that particular betrayal was still a bitter memory.

He kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair back. "I love you, Lizzie. I just want to know what's going on between us, because I don't understand it. I mean, it would make _more_ sense if you were having an affair. At least that's something I can grasp. As it is, I don't know what to think."

"Neither do I," she admitted quietly. "I love you too."

He pulled away gently, rubbing away her tears with his thumbs. "Is everything ok? Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Mickey. I'm ok. Really."

"Is this guy bothering you? Because if he is, I'll go out there and - "

"No, it's fine. I'm so sorry I haven't called. Things have been so crazy with the apartment and with Fred - "

"Hey, I just want to know you're ok." He leaned in and gave her a kiss, smiling as he pulled away. "I've missed that."

She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Me too," she whispered.

"Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

She nodded. "Sure. Of course."

He returned the nod and crossed to the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, and turned back to her. "You're...you're not moving back in anytime soon, are you?"

"I just don't know yet, Mickey. I can always just sell this stuff if I do."

" _If,"_ he repeated sadly, almost to himself, and then opened the door. He gave her one last small smile, his eyes becoming slightly wet. "Whatever I did, Lizzie - whatever I did or said that was wrong...I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

She sniffed, biting back another sob. "You didn't do anything wrong, Mickey."

He left silently, and the apartment was still. She stood in the middle of the living room, hugging herself, and glanced out the window to find the sun had nearly set. She heard the sound of Mickey's pickup truck roar to life in the parking lot, and felt a fresh round of tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

She dropped to the sofa, watching the last of the sun set, not aware of time passing. Suddenly, a knock on the door tore her from her thoughts.

 _What now?_ she thought impatiently, looking through the peephole to spy Janie standing on the other side. With a sigh, she threw open the door and moaned, "Janie, I've had a long day - "

"Well, we all have!" Janie interrupted briskly, entering the apartment with a bottle of wine in the crook of her arm. "Was that Mickey's pickup truck I saw pull out of the parking lot?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth said, settling back down onto the sofa. "He was - well, he saw Fred and me here, and got the wrong idea." She looked down at her hands. "Seemed pretty upset."

Janie surveyed the pile of blankets and pillows belonging to Fred's "bed" on the new sleeper sofa. "Yeah," she said, dragging the word out. "Can't say I totally blame him. You didn't...you know, tell him the truth?"

"Oh, that my imaginary friend from childhood is now suddenly human and sleeping on my couch? Call me crazy, but I don't think he'd believe me." She crossed her arms across her chest. "Not that he _completely_ believed me when I said Fred was an old college friend, either."

"Where _is_ he, anyway?" Janie asked, casting her eyes around the room. "Seems a little too quiet."

"I told him to take a walk while Mickey was here," Elizabeth said, hungrily eyeing the bottle of wine. "So far today, I've been banned from the mall, risked my shitty job by lying to my boss again about being sick, and might be on the verge of losing my boyfriend. So how about opening that bottle?"

The merlot was opened and poured into two cups, and sipped gratefully by Janie and Elizabeth as Elizabeth told her about the experience at the mall, cringing through the awkwardest parts.

"It was awful," Elizabeth moaned. "You should have seen the look on the mall cop's face when Fred told him to _piss off, it's called performance art, you philistine!"_ she said, doing a passable impression of Fred's voice. She took another swig of her wine. "That was right after he peed in a dressing room. _Peed._ In a _dressing room."_

Expecting to find a sympathetic look on her friend's face, Elizabeth finally chanced a glance at Janie and was shocked to find Janie hiding a grin behind her hand, albeit not very well. Elizabeth scowled.

"Janie, you don't actually think this is _funny?"_

In response, Janie finally let loose the laughter she'd been fighting throughout the whole story, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes and holding her ribs as she hooted. "Lizzie, it's hilarious!" she managed to choke out.

Whether it was the wine or the fact that the adrenaline from the day's adventures had finally started to wear off, Elizabeth found herself giggling a little too. "I guess it _was_ sort of funny," she admitted, rubbing her eye.

"It's goddamn _hysterical!"_ Janie shook with laughter, nearly spilling her drink. "What I wouldn't give to be able to do that sort of thing in public! You have to admit, Lizzie, it's never dull when that guy's around."

This statement was punctuated by the door flying open and Fred stepping inside, immediately scoffing upon catching sight of Janie. "Oh, that's _just_ what we need!" he cried, slamming the door. "The couch goblin! Banishes all who cross her to a lumpy, uncomfortable cot that smells like old _farts!"_

"That's me," Janie said agreeably, taking a liberal sip of her wine and setting her glass down pointedly. "Come on, kids. We've all had a helluva day. And I don't know about you, but a little wine and a small apartment isn't going to cut it. Let's go out for a while, hm?"

Elizabeth moaned. "Janie, I've got to work tomorrow - "

"So do I!" She rose. "I'm not proposing we stay out half the night. Live a little, Lizzie. You _can_ go out past seven o'clock at night. You won't turn into a pumpkin, promise."

All Elizabeth really wanted to do was change into her pajamas, crawl under the covers and try to forget about things like mall cops, Mickey and work looming on the morning's horizon, but Fred caught Janie's enthusiasm.

"That sounds great! I _love_ going out!" he crowed, rubbing his hands together. "What should we do? Go to Fartpants' house and poo on his porch? Spray paint 'arse gobbler' on the side of Lizzie's mother's house?"

Janie arched an eyebrow. "Well, I was thinking of a few beers and maybe a game of pool."

"Billiards?" he cried, practically in a jovial snarl. "That's my game! Let's do it! Loser buys the lager!"

"Fred, you don't have any money," Elizabeth reminded him. "And I don't play pool."

"Oh - right, well, it doesn't matter. I'll mop the floor with _you_ anyway, Fart Goblin!" he burst, sneering at Janie.

Janie calmly took one last swig of her wine, looked him up and down as though inspecting the competition, and declared evenly, "You're on, Drop Dead Fred."

.

* * *

.

Two sweating glasses of beer chilled on the edge of a pool table nestled in the back of the bar, well away from the small dance floor and bartop. Janie's days of hanging out in dive bars were long over, but she still enjoyed the atmosphere of people gathering to have a few drinks, enjoy the lights shining on the river outside, and maybe shoot a few games of pool. Thus, the River's Edge Bar and Grill was one of her favorite haunts - not dive-y enough to attract ruffians, nice enough to attract the kinds of people who still sometimes wore ties to dinner, but laid-back enough that she didn't mind caterwauling along to a good song once she had a few beers in her system.

But tonight, she was the personification of intense concentration. This Drop Dead Fred fella, she had quickly discovered, was not a half-bad pool player.

"Six in the corner pocket," Fred murmured as he lined up the shot, careful to keep both eyes open and level with the billiard ball, taking his time. A moment later, he swiftly cracked the cue against the ball with the perfect speed, sending the intended ball into the intended pocket. He smirked at Janie and took another swig of his beer. "Better get out yer cash now, Fart Goblin. I never miss a shot."

Sitting on a stool near the pool table and nursing a beer of her own, Elizabeth noted, "You keep sucking down that beer at the rate you are, Fred, and you'll be lucky if you can find the pool table in an hour."

Fred sniffed, lining up his next shot. "If the audience can't say anything nice, perhaps they'd kindly _shut their mouths."_

Janie's smirk morphed into a small, bemused smile as she watched Fred carefully hover over the green felt of the table. Both she and Elizabeth had insisted that he change clothes before coming, and switch into some of his new clothes. Fred was now dressed in a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt, and a black jacket that belonged to Mickey which Elizabeth had mistakenly packed with her own clothes while moving out. His hair, still wild, had refused to be tamed, not even after both Janie and Elizabeth tackled it with a brush before leaving the apartment.

For a good ten minutes after stepping into the River's Edge, Fred had done little more than to gawk at the surroundings. It had been a good long while since he'd been in a bar, or really anywhere other than lame girly shops in the mall or stuck inside houses, and he silently marveled at being once more part of the world. He still wasn't quite used to others being able to speak with him, either, or even see him, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the bartender asked him what he was drinking.

He had to admit, though, that he had _dearly_ missed beer.

A crack signified yet another good shot for Fred, and he rubbed a block of chalk against the point of his cue, looking smug. "Now would be a good time for a toilet break if you need one, because I'll be at this a while," he said crisply to Janie.

"Not on your life," she shot back good-naturedly. "I don't trust you not to take a few liberties with the score while I'm gone."

Fred jeered at her, but it was half-hearted as he couldn't help but let a tiny, genuine grin escape him. "You know that trick, do you?"

"Honey, I was born at night, but not _last_ night."

Kicking her feet a bit on the stool where she perched, Elizabeth let her eyes wander around the restaurant area and felt contented for the first time in weeks. This place was much more her speed than the haughty, up-tight places Charles used to take her to ("A place with class, _real_ class" he always used to say), and the sometimes run-down strip-mall restaurants or country buffets that Mickey preferred taking her to on their date nights ("Just a simple, inexpensive meal, nothing fancy," he used to say).

Something right in the middle - something like this place - was what she suddenly realized she liked. For a moment, she was taken aback by this notion, until she realized she had rarely had the opportunity to choose on her own. Until now.

Fred suddenly erupted at Janie, "Wait a minute! _Wait a minute!_ You _must_ have cheated!"

Janie finished the rest of her beer and shoved the empty glass towards Fred. "Don't be such a sore loser! Come on, remember? _Loser buys the lager?"_

Fred fumed for a few moments, studying the pool table as though Janie had affixed trap doors to it. He'd never seen someone win against him that quickly, and it incensed him. "They must make these billiards tables longer than they used to or something," Fred growled. "Or maybe the floor's warped. Or maybe Cosmo screwed up my billiards-playing ability. That _sounds_ like something he'd do, just to be a bastard. Shit! How the hell did I lose to a bloody _girl?!"_ He sighed. "Right," he said resolutely. "I'll trounce you in the next game. You know that, right? Are you ready to get _absolutely thrashed?"_

"Absolutely _trashed,_ maybe," Janie said, wiggling the glass in his face.

Elizabeth laughed and dug out a ten dollar bill. "Next round's on me, how's that?" she said. "This vaudeville's worth that, I think."

Fred watched Elizabeth go, and Janie smirked. "Wanna forfeit and go dance with her or what?" she chided him as the DJ began a new set of music, one with a beat.

He scowled. "I only need two turns and I'll have you beat."

" _If_ I give you a turn," she corrected him, lining up her shot. She gave him a knowing glance. "You know, she has a boyfriend, Fred."

"I _know_ that," he sighed impatiently. "Why should I care?"

"Not sure," she mused, taking her shot and sinking it, making Fred hollar. Her smirk broadened. "But you do."

"I do _not,"_ he spat. "I'm not exactly Fartpants' biggest fan, but he's a whole hell of a lot better than that _utter prick_ she was with before him."

"Charles?" Janie took a sip of her beer and nodded. "Agreed. What a son of a bitch he was." She gave him a quick look, as though trying to determine whether she should admit the next part, and then ventured, "Truth be told, I'm not Mickey's biggest fan either." Getting no immediate reaction from Fred except silence, she sighed and chalked her cue before continuing, "Oh, he's a nice enough guy. Got a decent job. That little girl of his is just the bee's knees, as you well know. But I've always wondered - if they hadn't known each other as kids, would she have ever given him the time of day?"

"I've never trusted a man who can only pick his nose in private and never in public," Fred noted.

Janie took her shot, nailed it, and began to line up her next. "I've been wondering…" she said in a sing-songy voice. "If you were invisible, and could be anywhere without anyone knowing...did you ever, you know, sneak a peek at Lizzie when she was changing? Getting in the shower?"

He gave her a flat look. "Are you going to shoot, or what?"

"No need to get huffy. I'm already thirsty for the next beer you'll be buying." She missed her shot and stamped her foot as Fred crowed and stepped in, lining up his own shot. She added, "You know what women _do_ like, Fred? Men with jobs. Steady jobs. Jobs that contribute to the household, that pay for all the food and clothes and electricity they're using."

He gave her a tight-lipped grimace. "I'll have you know I had my last job since before your grandparents were even born, Fart Goblin." His shot was successful, and he downed the last of his own beer, smacking his lips. "My God, I missed lager," he said affectionately, looking lovingly at the empty glass. "Though this piss you call lager doesn't quite hit the spot."

"And yet I bet you'll stoop to drinking this one too," Elizabeth said from behind him, handing him a full, cold glass of beer, which he gratefully took.

For the next hour, Elizabeth watched and laughed as Janie and Fred continued to play, and continued to snipe at one another. She supposed it made sense that Janie and Fred would get along so well - they were both sarcastic and fond of teasing, and why shouldn't two of the most important people in her life be friends? Perhaps it was just the beer, but as she sat laughing and joining in with the banter, she couldn't help but feel truly happy for the first time in many months. The DJ continued to play good music as the crowd on the dance floor swelled, and before long, the beers had worked their magic on Elizabeth's bladder and she had to excuse herself to the restroom.

She took her time, washing her hands slowly, reapplying her lipstick, and thinking about the incredible happenstance of Fred reappearing in her life. Idly, she wondered where her life was going, if she'd ever get out of her terrible job, if she and Mickey could work things out, and if not, if Fred -

Shocked at this thought, she looked at herself squarely in the mirror. _What is wrong with you?_ she asked herself for seemingly the thousandth time in the last couple of weeks. The alcohol in her system made everything seem a little hazy around the edges, and her mind went from thinking about Mickey to thinking about Fred's mouth. The shape of his lips. What they might taste li -

She shook her head. "No, no!" she whispered to herself angrily. She splashed some cold water on her face, and willed herself to forget she'd ever had the thought. Heaving a sigh, she slung her purse around her shoulder and opened the door to slip out.

Looking around for Fred and Janie, she finally spotted them by the bar, where Fred appeared to be gloating to the bartender as Janie dourly handed over some cash.

"...the _last_ time I play pool with a cheat," Janie was saying, but the corners of her mouth were curled up almost in a smile. She knew Fred probably cheated, but hell, so had she - and fun was fun.

"Hey Snotface!" Fred burst in greeting. "Guess who beat Fart Goblin into the ground? Guess who's the _best pool player on earth?"_

The DJ started up a new track, one he announced was a brand new release by a band Elizabeth had never heard of ("Right Said Fred!" the DJ practically screamed), and the first line of the song suddenly blared to life over the speakers, something about the singer being _too sexy for my love,_ and shortly thereafter, declaring that he was _also too sexy for my shirt._

"Right!" said Fred. "Sounds like my kind of song!" Without thinking, he grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "C'mon, Snotface! I also happen to be the best dancer on earth!"

Elizabeth snorted. "Fred, I can't dance!" she shouted over the ludicrous song.

He gave her a bewildered look. "So what?" he cried, and dragged her onto the dance floor.

Whatever Fred was doing, Elizabeth decided, most certainly was _not_ dancing. He writhed around, completely off the beat, throwing his arms around and making everyone within a three foot radius of them move back so they didn't get smacked. She stood stock-still for a moment, somewhere between extreme embarrassment and wanting to laugh hysterically, when he suddenly grabbed her and whirled her around the dancefloor a few times.

"Fred!" she shouted over the music, holding onto him for dear life and laughing. "What the hell are you _doing?"_

"I'm having fun!" he shouted back merrily. "You oughta try it sometime, Snotface, you might just like it!"

Something clicked in her, and as though a bright neon sign flashed in her brain saying _Oh, what the hell!_ she grinned, latched onto Fred and took him for a few whirls of her own, laughing until her ribs hurt. She did a strange flailing dance of her own, feeling ridiculous and happy, as Fred cheered and danced beside her, the other dancers giving them a wide berth and odd expressions.

It was strangely freeing to have just one moment in time when she didn't care what the people around her thought, what Mickey might think (" _He_ _ **never**_ _dances!"_ she suddenly realized to herself), and how silly she might look. In that moment with Fred, it simply didn't matter to either of them.

The song reached its crescendo, and whether it was the beers or the exhilaration of the moment, she suddenly grabbed Fred, and pulled him close. As though a force not of her own will, she found herself closing her eyes slowly, leaning in, and brushing her lips against his unhurriedly. Finding no resistance, she leaned into the kiss, and shortly realized Fred was doing the same. The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment.

It lasted all of five seconds before sense seemed to return to both of them, and Elizabeth was the first to pull away just as the song ended and a slower number started. Her heart hammered in her chest, her eyes not leaving his for a moment. The kiss had been almost electric in nature, like something she had only experienced once or twice before in her life, and she realized with a sinking heart that even such an innocent kiss - her lips not even having parted once - had felt more magical than all of her kisses with Mickey.

 _Mickey._

"Oh my god," she gasped softly. "I'm - I'm so sorry, Fred, I - "

She wasn't able to complete her sentence, and instead ran back to the bar, where an astonished Janie awaited her, holding a rapidly warming beer, unable to believe what she just saw.

"Holy shit, kiddo," Janie murmured to her.

Elizabeth grabbed her purse. "Sorry. I'm sorry," she whispered. "I - I have to get out here, Janie, I - "

"Fine, let me just get my keys, and - "

"Sorry," Elizabeth said again and sprinted out the doors, her face burning, and hailed the first cab she saw idling at the curb, asking the driver to take her home, but to do it slowly. She needed time to think.

.

* * *

.

Elizabeth paid an ungodly amount of money to the cab driver to essentially drive in circles around the city for close to two hours, her mind racing, not wanting to go home. She toyed with the thought of going to Janie's house for the evening, as Janie was sure to be home by that time, but in the end decided it would only make things worse by putting it off. In a feeble voice, she finally asked the driver to take her home, and arrived at her doorstep moments later.

The apartment was dark as she stepped inside, the only light in the room coming from a streetlamp outside. She laid her purse and keys down gently before finally noticing Fred sitting out on the small balcony, staring up at the moon. With a deep, fortifying breath, she silently joined him.

Neither spoke for a long moment before Elizabeth finally broke the silence with, "I'm sorry, Fred."

Fred didn't reply for a minute, and continued to stare up at the moon. "You know, the moon looks almost exactly the same wherever you are in the world," he said quietly. "It might be a little bigger in some places, smaller in others. But it's always bright. And it's always beautiful." He sighed. "Real beauty never fades, does it, Snotface? I mean the kind of beauty that isn't just aesthetic. Inner beauty, and all that bollocks."

She wasn't sure how to respond, so she sat silently, looking down at her hands.

He gave her a small smile. "It was always you and me against the world, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"And we always got through it, just you and me. It'd be the same in any place, or any situation. Fred and Lizzie always muddled through somehow. Just like that moon is always still there behind any clouds, still shining bright, anywhere and everywhere in the world, we always end up figuring it out." He turned to her. "It's ok, Lizzie."

"I didn't mean to - to - it was an accident, Fred."

"Right," he murmured.

"We've both had a few drinks - "

"Right."

" - I love Mickey, Fred. I love him."

A little more reluctant, "Right," came from Fred.

"I'm sorry." She shot to her feet, as though the wood of the balcony was suddenly made of fire. "I think I'd better get to bed, Fred. We - we can talk in the morning."

Though they would never admit it to one another, neither of them got a wink of sleep that night, Elizabeth in her bed staring up at the ceiling, Fred on the sleeper sofa looking out at the moon through the window, cursing how complicated being mortal could be and wishing the morning would come.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The next morning, Elizabeth was awoken from an admittedly fragile sleep by the piercing screech of the fire alarm.

Leaping from her bed and grabbing her bathrobe, she raced down the hallway to the kitchen, struggling to smooth her hair back enough to see, and her eyes landed on Fred. Who was holding a pan. Which was on fire.

"Fred!" she shouted over the blaring of the alarm. Without waiting for an answer, she flew to the sink, turned on the tap, grabbed Fred's arm and directed the pan under the running water. With a hiss and an enormous cloud of smoke, the fire died quickly. She reached up and deftly removed the cover from the alarm, then grabbed the battery out of it. The blaring stopped immediately. Elizabeth turned her attention back to Fred, whose expression was somewhere between bewilderment and feigned innocence. "What in the world happened?" she asked, breathless.

He gave her a helpless shrug. "Eggs have a flash point. Who knew?"

"Eggs?" she repeated, still trying to blink her way into full consciousness. "You were making eggs?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged again, dropping the hot pan in the sink with a clatter. "I thought I'd make you breakfast, Snotface. Didn't know I'd be risking my life to do it. The stupid toaster damn near electrocuted me, too."

Her eyes traveled across the counter to the toaster, which was lying on its side with a knife poking out of it. She tried to hide her cringe. "The toast pops up on its own, Fred. You don't have to pry it out."

"Then how was I supposed to know if it was done or not?" he replied somewhat tersely. "Honestly Snotface, this entire kitchen is a _deathtrap."_

"With someone like you trying to cook, it would be," she muttered, surveying the burned pieces of egg scattered on the floor and pieces of torn toast lying on the counter. She sighed, running her hands over her face. "Listen, I appreciate the gesture, but just so we both live through the morning, how about _I_ make breakfast?"

"No problem!" Fred said agreeably, sticking his hands in his pockets and dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. "So! What's on the agenda for today, then? I noticed there's a shitload of pigeons about. How about we capture some, train them to do our bidding, and then send them on dive-bombing missions in the city to poo all over people's heads?"

While Fred was explaining his plan in great detail over the next several moments (including a "hit-list" that said dive-bombing pigeon could target, including Polly), Elizabeth swept up the eggs, put the pan in the dishwasher, and cleaned up the toaster. "Listen Fred, not that that doesn't sound...uh, rewarding, in a weird way...but I have to work today. Pretty sure I've exhausted whatever limited patience my ass of a boss has for things like sick days."

"Oh, well then, I'll just come with you," he said brightly, as though that was that.

A look of horror crossed her face before she got ahold of herself. "I don't think that's a good idea, Fred." She got out a clean pan and began to prepare some eggs for scrambling, unsure how to phrase her next sentence. "Look, Fred...the truth is, supporting two people on my salary isn't going to work. I barely have enough for myself at the moment. Have you given any thought to...you know...getting a job?"

"Fart Goblin said something about it last night," Fred mused, carefully tearing apart a cloth napkin at the seams that he'd found on the table.

"Well, it might not be a bad idea," Elizabeth said in what she hoped sounded like an optimistic voice, pouring the eggs into the hot pan. "I'm sure there's something out there that would suit you." Though off the top of her head, she had no idea what that something might be. "Maybe I can drop you off downtown before I go into work, you can look for a job down there, and I'll pick you up tonight." When Fred didn't respond and continued to tear apart her _nice, new cloth napkin, for heaven's sake!,_ she continued, "Do you...you know, have any skills?"

"I can train pigeons to poo on people," Fred responded, still absorbed in the napkin.

"I mean something that an employer might be interested in."

"There's probably a whole lot of people that would pay me to have a pigeon poo on their mother's head. Or specifically just your mother."

"I meant like any sort of a trade, or something," Elizabeth continued to push. "You know, like I'm a paralegal. Mickey works construction. Janie's a lawyer. Charles sold cars. Things like that. Cosmo said you hadn't been an imaginary friend forever, so you must have done something before that."

Fred's face remained passive, not meeting her eye.

Elizabeth sighed again and popped two pieces of toast into the toaster. "Listen, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, alright? But you'll need a job of some sort, just to support yourself."

After a beat, Fred suddenly threw the napkin to the floor, as though it disgusted him. "When I had my magic, I didn't have to worry about all of this mortal bullshit. I was never hungry, never cold, never tired."

"Well, you're mortal now, Fred."

"Don't remind me," he muttered, getting up and beginning to pace. "I _begged_ them not to make me mortal again, Snotface. I had everything I needed. I had my _work_ , I had my _magic_ , the only thing I _didn't_ have was - " He stopped short here, somewhat embarrassed, and didn't look at her.

Even he, as outwardly carefree as he was, couldn't deny the fact that in the mortal world, a lot of things came down to money. He hadn't forgotten that much, at least, and he wasn't blind to the fact that Elizabeth was in a transitory period in her life, and as such, money was important for things like paying the rent on a new apartment and feeding an imaginary friend that had suddenly become human.

And he never wanted to be a burden on Snotface. That simply would not do.

A defeated look crossed his face. "All right," he said quietly. "Take me downtown and I'll look for a job. I'll make good, Snotface. Promise."

Before leaving the house, an argument nearly erupted between them as Elizabeth urged him to wear his one and only new suit, as perhaps it would look better to potential employers, while Fred argued it made him look like he was on his way to a funeral, and who would hire someone who was on their way to a funeral? The compromise they made had Fred wearing jeans, but a nicely pressed, collared shirt and the black jacket that had belonged to Mickey, as Fred decided he was growing fond of it. Again Elizabeth could do very little with his hair, but at least the rest of him looked fairly presentable.

They climbed into the car shortly thereafter, Elizabeth dressed for work and Fred dressed for about anything, and began to make their way towards downtown. The events of the previous evening were still fresh in her mind, and they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

"Listen, Fred, about last night…" she started, hands tightening on the wheel. "I think it's best if we just pretend it didn't happen." After a moment of silence, she chanced a glance at him, finding him staring out the window, his expression unreadable. "Don't you?"

"Sure," he responded evenly. "It's our little secret."

 _It's our little secret_ had been a catchphrase in her childhood with Fred, as countless times they'd pulled a prank or done something they didn't want the adults to find out about, and they'd always whispered an assuring _It's our little secret_ to one another like a pact or a code, usually sealed with a pinky swear.

She nodded. "Right. I just didn't want it to be weird between us."

"You're weird enough as it is. Laying a big old smooch on me won't make you any weirder than you already are."

She rubbed her forehead; she guessed it had been her that made the first move. She'd almost forgotten. Almost let herself believe it didn't happen, and that she hadn't betrayed Mickey's trust.

"Ok, look. It doesn't matter who initiated it. It's just between us, ok? And for the record, you're also weird."

"Guilty as charged," he replied with a quick smirk in her direction. "So you're not going to tell Fartpants about it, then?"

"No!" she barked. "And neither are you! That reminds me: I'm going out with him tonight, so you're on your own."

"Oh, _charming_ ," Fred deadpanned. "All alone cooped up in a little box in the suburbs after wandering 'round all day looking for a job. Mortal life certainly is _exciting_."

Elizabeth dropped Fred off on a busy street corner, giving him strict instructions that she'd meet him at the same spot precisely at 6pm, and then drove to the parking garage near her office. Her heart began pounding in her chest as it often did right before stepping into her workplace.

The legal office where she worked was a pressure cooker to say the least. The company regularly took cases that no one else wanted to touch, and as such the stress level was staggering. The partners took it out on the lawyers, and the lawyers took it out on the paralegals like Elizabeth. _Shit rolls downhill,_ as Janie always said, and Elizabeth had never believed it so strongly before getting a job at that office.

She wasn't well-liked in the office, and no one made a secret of it. She'd long ago abandoned the notion that it was some personal failing on her part - although she admitted that she'd made her fair share of honest mistakes - but rather because she came off as quiet and unassuming, at least at first, she was often times an easy target for a stressed out, bitter supervisor who was looking to lay into someone. There were days when she could almost smell it in the air.

As soon as she walked into the office, she immediately knew that today was one of those days.

Bart Caldwill, one of the ballsier of the lawyers and also one of her direct supervisors, was the first to catch sight of her. "Ah, _here_ she is!" he called melodramatically. "Arisen from her deathbed to grace us with her presence!"

She simpered and put her purse into her desk. "I'm - I'm feeling much better now," she said to Bart, as he stood over her desk holding a cup of coffee. "Sorry I missed a few days."

"Oh, no problem," he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "It's not like we're doing important work for our clients here or anything."

She bit her lip to keep from saying something nasty and instead took a quick look around the office. "Well, you seem to have survived without me somehow," she said in a light voice, hoping he took it as a joke.

His face darkened and he leaned down next to her. "Maybe that ought to worry you a bit, Ms. Cronin," he whispered, then walked away.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she pulled the first memo from her inbox. A request for a case file. Easy enough. She dodged several other secretaries, assistants and paralegals to get to the large row of filing cabinets where she began to search for the file in question. Her fingers, used to this sort of work, flipped along the files, her brow etched in concentration.

"Hey Elizabeth!" came the cheery cry of Nancy Bick, one of the legal secretaries who somehow, some way was always chipper. Elizabeth had always suspected some sort of narcotic was involved - no one could possibly be happy in this place for so long without some sort of help. Nancy was looking through the cabinet to her left. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, much better," Elizabeth lied. "I didn't realize taking sick days was such a big deal here."

"Oh, you know how they are - they're all workaholics around here, and don't understand anyone who isn't," Nancy chirped, as though this was all perfectly reasonable. "I know you're still sort of new, but you'll learn. Why, last year Cathy Bigthergall broke six ribs, her collarbone and her tibia in a car accident, had to have two emergency surgeries, and they _still_ expected her back a week after the accident. It was six before she came back."

This sounded horrifying to Elizabeth but she tried not to show it. She needed this job, and although she hated it, it paid better than any job she'd ever had. "Really," she said, trying to sound disinterested. Nancy loved nothing more than to gossip. "I guess they knew better than to try and get her back so soon. They're lawyers, they know they could get sued back into oblivion."

"Oh, no!" Nancy trilled. "It's the other way around, honey. _They_ do the suing. They let her go, and she knew better than to try and file suit."

With this, Nancy pranced away and Elizabeth found the file she was seeking. She tried to avoid eye contact with the other stony-faced lawyers who were practically shoulder deep in paperwork, dropping off the file at the correct lawyer's desk, and heading back to her own. The next item in her inbox was asking for a bit of information for an upcoming case (the office's client, a car manufacturer, was being sued by fifty-four people whose relatives had died due to faulty airbags in the cars, and the lawyer had asked Elizabeth to research how air bags worked so that, she supposed, he could find a loophole that would acquit the manufacturer), so she began to research the item in question in one of her books.

She soon became absorbed in the research and didn't realize that Clint Washington, another lawyer and yet another of her supervisors, was hovering over her desk looking madder than a hornet. He slammed the file she'd just brought him down on her desk.

"That's not the file I asked for," he barked.

She reached for the memo he'd sent her, and tried to calmly show him that it _was_ the correct file. He pursed his lips.

"Listen, I don't have time for bullshit this morning, Ms. Cronin," he said. His cologne was so strong it nearly gagged her. "This is clearly the wrong date here - " Here, he pointed to the date that he, himself, had written on the request, " - because I'd never ask for a file that old. You know that."

Again, Elizabeth tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn't help but let slip, "I'm sorry that I haven't honed my psychic ability to your standards yet, Mr. Washington, but that is the file you requested, and so that is what I brought you."

He looked vaguely surprised, but his expression turned to steel once again. "Anticipating the needs of your supervisor is hardly psychic ability, as you put it, and I don't appreciate it when paralegals get lippy. Find the file from this year, like you should have done in the first place, and we'll say no more about it."

She sighed and rose from her chair, her face burning. It was going to be a _long_ day.

But it wasn't until after lunch, at around two o'clock, when the shit really hit the fan.

She'd endured three different supervisors each stopping by her desk, asking her pointedly if she was feeling better and why she wasn't caught up on days' worth of work yet, and was doing her best not to scream in their face each time when the phone rang at her desk.

"Elizabeth Cronin," she said, trying to keep the growl out of her voice and hoping she sounded professional.

"Snotface?" Fred's voice sounded tinny and far away.

"Fred? Where are you?"

"Well, funny story, actually." Here, Fred attempted an awkward chuckle, and failed. "Thing of it is, Snotface, I'm at the police station."

Her blood ran cold. "Why?" she asked, dragging the word out.

"Well, see, the police here, they...well, you see, the thing of it is - "

"Fred, spit it out!"

"I was _arrested!_ Can you believe that?"

Her palm hit her forehead. "Fred, what do you mean, you were arrested?"

"Listen, I can explain later, but for now, I think you'd better get down here quick. And bring money. And maybe call Fart Goblin. She's a lawyery-thing, isn't she?"

Not trusting herself to answer, Elizabeth hung up and put her face in her hands. "Why today?" she muttered. Nevertheless, she bravery rose and began gathering her things, and Clint swooped down like a hawk.

"Lunch is over, Ms. Cronin."

"I - uh, I have to leave, Mr. Washington. It's a...family emergency," she stammered, her cheeks burning.

He scoffed. "Sit down, Ms. Cronin. The work day ends at six, and not a moment before. You know that."

She couldn't leave Fred at the police station. She just couldn't. But the pile of unpaid bills at home also called to her. "Listen, I'll come in on Saturday to make up the hours," she promised. "I'll come in Sunday too, and next weekend to make up the days I missed if you want. But there's something I need to take care of, and I need to leave. I'm sorry, but that's the reality."

"Is that so?" he said, appraising her coldly, almost seeming to enjoy it. "That's the reality, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then." He put his hands in the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants. "Then the reality is that your services are no longer needed. Clear out your desk, Cronin. You're done here."

* * *

Three hours later, Fred was finally freed from the holding cell on a $750 bond that Elizabeth paid and they headed home in complete silence, as anything Fred tried to say died in his throat before he could get more than a word or two out, and Elizabeth refused to speak since she couldn't trust herself not to say something hurtful. As soon as they arrived at the door, Fred wisely claimed he was going for a long walk, wished Elizabeth luck on her date that night, and disappeared, knowing that the expression on Elizabeth's face meant she didn't want to see him for a while and that he should make himself scarce.

Elizabeth had called Janie at the station, and Janie was waiting for her inside the apartment, looking through Fred's arrest record from that afternoon. Elizabeth opened the door, spotted Janie, and immediately collapsed on the couch next to her.

"Tough day, kid?" Janie said, not looking up from her notes.

"I got fired today, Janie," Elizabeth said calmly. "And then had to bail my childhood best friend out of jail with next month's rent money."

"That's rough," Janie murmured. "Let me get this straight. You drop him off this morning to look for a job, which he claims he did."

"Yeah, well, he also admitted to calling several business owners _bloody bastards_ when they had the audacity to tell him they weren't hiring, so who knows."

"Right. So, instead he decides the best course of action is to pickpocket someone. Who turned out to be an undercover cop."

Elizabeth put her face in her hands. "Five hours, Janie. I only left him alone for _five hours."_

"Listen, courts in this city have bigger fish to fry. I think I can probably get him out of this, or at least let off with only a fine."

"I can't _afford_ a fine, Janie! I can't even afford _dinner_ at this point!" Elizabeth wailed, tears threatening to fall.

"Relax," Janie soothed, closing the case file. "Let me take care of this, Lizzie. Pro bono, of course. If I get nasty enough, might even be able to get the fine dropped with just a misdemeanor on his record."

Elizabeth sat up, leaning forward to try and keep the tears in her eyes. "Why is it everytime Fred shows up, my life starts falling apart?"

"Usually because something needs to fall apart before it can get better," Janie replied deftly, grabbing her purse. "That's a very ancient idea, you know. Destruction, transformation - sometimes it's the same thing in the end. Listen, I don't want you to think I'm defending the guy. I don't have a horse in this race. But seems like he hasn't had to be, you know, a functional human for a long time. It's like he gets things mixed up in his mind. Thinks he can act the same and do the things he used to do when only _you_ could see him. It might just take him some time to adjust, that's all."

"I don't know how much more _adjusting_ I can take," Elizabeth muttered.

Janie put her hand on Elizabeth's. "You do whatever you need to do, sister. But I'll tell you one thing. I haven't seen you as happy as you were last night in a long time. I mean, a _long_ time." She looked at her friend carefully. "Did you guys...you know...talk about what happened last night? The kiss, I mean?"

"We both agreed not to talk about it," Elizabeth said quietly, not looking at Janie. "Thanks for everything, Janie, but I have to get ready for my date with Mickey."

"All right, but look, let's have lunch tomorrow. My treat." Janie rose as Elizabeth nodded. Janie gave her one last look, her hand on the doorknob, and said, "And look, Lizzie - you hated that fucking job. You _hated_ it. Try to remember that."

Elizabeth took her time in getting ready, half-hoping that Fred would arrive back and perhaps they could talk a little, but knew she was still too worked up to be entirely calm and rational. She left the front door unlocked for him, lingering outside by the car for a short while hoping to spot him, but finally gave up.

She arrived at Mickey's shortly thereafter. She noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway, but figured it must be Nat's babysitter. However, when she knocked on the door, a surprise greeted her on the threshold.

"Marcia?" she stammered in surprise at finding Mickey's ex-wife in the doorway.

"Hi, Lizzie!" Marcia said warmly, pulling her in for a hug. Elizabeth was too surprised to hug back. "Mickey said you'd be here tonight. I'm just about to put the pork chops in the oven. Come on in!"

Somewhat stunned, Elizabeth entered and took off her coat. Marcia continued to prattle, vocally admiring Elizabeth's dress and earrings, and put Elizabeth's coat in the closet. Elizabeth took the opportunity to give Marcia a once-over: they'd only met briefly once or twice before Marcia left for New Mexico, and while Marcia seemed nice enough, there was something about her constantly-distracted air, her willingness to let a work meeting or function take priority over family, that had always rubbed Elizabeth the wrong way, perhaps because she'd seen her father exhibit the same behavior when she was young.

"Nat's been telling me all about you," Marcia was saying as she led Elizabeth into the living room that Elizabeth herself had decorated. "I know she's excited to see you."

"Well, I - I'm excited to see her too," Elizabeth said, looking around the empty living room. "Where are she and Mickey?"

"Mickey's just helping her finish homework upstairs. Come on in the kitchen. Want some wine?"

"God, yes!" Elizabeth agreed a little too eagerly, then caught herself. "That would be wonderful," she said more demurely.

She sat in the kitchen - the one she'd cooked a hundred meals in - watching this near-stranger glide around preparing food in there like she did it every night, giving monosyllabic answers to the chatty, polite questions that Marcia posed to her, taking gulps of her wine in an attempt to calm down slightly.

Finally, the telltale sounds of steps taken two at a time were heard, and Natalie burst into the kitchen. Her eyes landed on Elizabeth, and she grinned. "Lizzie!" she cried, and wrapped her arms around the older woman.

"Hi Nat! I missed you!" Elizabeth replied, hugging the child tightly and giving her a light noogie. "Homework finished?"

"All done," Mickey said as he strode in, also smiling. He, too, leaned in to give Elizabeth a hug but she noticed that he did not move to give her a kiss. "Fractions are harder than I remember them being."

 _"I_ know more about them than Daddy!" Natalie crowed, climbing up on one of the stools. "But Mommy - she's the _best_ at math!"

"I've had a lot of practice," Marcia said with a smile. "Gotta keep the books balanced at work."

"How's - How's the business going, Marcia?" Elizabeth stumbled.

"Going great. I'm moving the headquarters here so I can be closer to Nat." Marcia added the last few dashes of herbs to the chops and put them in the oven. "In a year or two, it'll practically run itself."

Elizabeth looked her boyfriend's ex-wife up and down; the woman positively radiated money. From the expensive cut of her clothes to the diamond earrings, it was an even harder pill to swallow that Elizabeth - never close to rich to begin with - was now unemployed.

Mickey watched Elizabeth's expression and cleared his throat. "Lizzie, I found some more of your stuff. It's in the garage. Want to come tell me what to do with it?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

Silently, she followed and soon they were alone in the garage, he began, "Lizzie, let me explain - "

Elizabeth cut him off. "Mickey, I knew Marcia was coming back to town, but she looks pretty damn comfortable in your house."

He looked slightly sheepish. "Well, technically it's _her_ house. I mean, I won it in the divorce, but she's the one who bou - "

"You know exactly what I mean. Is she staying here?"

"For a few days until she can find a place, yes."

Elizabeth made a scoffing sound. "Mickey, you realize how uncomfortable it makes me to come over here with your ex-wife cooking me dinner?"

Mickey's eyes flashed. "And do you realize how uncomfortable it made _me_ to go to your apartment to find there's a strange man I don't know _living_ with you?"

She stopped; he had her there. She played with a pebble with the sole of her shoe.

Mickey sighed. "Listen, she might be my ex-wife. But the difference is, she's my daughter's mother. Natalie's thrilled to have her back. I haven't seen her this happy in months, Lizzie. Not only that, but you knew full well Marcia was moving back to town, while I had no idea about Fred."

"In my defense, neither did I. And anyway, I didn't know Marcia would be _living_ here."

"She's - She's not _living_ here, she's just staying for a few days. Like you said your Fred guy was." His eyes narrowed a bit. "Is Fred still there, Lizzie?"

She looked up at him sharply. "Is that what this is about, Mickey? Are you trying to get back at me about Fred by inviting Marcia to stay here, when you knew I'd be over to see you and Nat?"

"What? No! It just seemed bizarre to me to have Marcia stay in a hotel when the whole reason she's back is to try and reconnect with Nat. Listen." He grabbed onto Elizabeth's hands and held them tightly. "I believe you when you say there's nothing going on between you and Fred. So I want you to believe me when I say nothing is going on between me and Marcia. She's staying in a separate bedroom in a separate part of the house. Marcia and I are parents first, exes second. Ok?"

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment and then pulled him into a hug. "All right. I'm sorry, Mickey. I just - I've had a terrible day and I shouldn't take it out on you. I - I lost my job and money is already tight."

Mickey's face crumpled in concern and he immediately reached for his wallet. "Lizzie, I've got some extra money this week - little side drywalling job I did for a buddy - let me just - "

"No, it's fine. Really."

"Lizzie." He gave her a broad smile. "You're my girl. I don't mind helping you out. You've helped me out before. Come on."

He handed over about $300 in cash, which Elizabeth reluctantly took. "I'll pay you back, Mickey," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. Come on. Let's get back inside."

Elizabeth, despite her best efforts at being cheerful and friendly, felt like the third wheel all evening. Mickey, Marcia and Natalie seemed like a cohesive family unit, laughing at inside jokes together and playfully teasing one another while Elizabeth tried to smile at the right times. She dodged questions about her work and home life, as both were a mess, and Mickey tried to break the awkwardness by telling funny stories about Nat and Fred.

Nat kept protesting laughingly that she didn't remember Fred, but certainly remembered blowing up her birthday cake, throwing paint at the side of the house, and a dozen other Fred-adventures that made Elizabeth laugh genuinely for the first time all evening and reminded her of many of her own childhood adventures with the red-headed time bomb. She even told a few of her own Fred-adventures, making them all howl with laughter. Despite all that had happened that day, she found herself missing Fred, feeling as though he should be there with these other people who - though they had no idea he actually existed - had made their lives funnier and brighter than they would have been otherwise, and asked nothing in return, not even a memory of him.

She helped Mickey and Marcia put Natalie to bed, though she felt like she was only in the way, and as the clock struck nine she put on her coat, thanked Marcia, and stepped out into the driveway with Mickey, their breaths billowing in the cold night air.

"Marcia's a nice lady," she said to Mickey.

"Well, I try not to marry people who _aren't_ nice," Mickey said with a laugh. "Thanks for coming, Lizzie. I'm sorry, I guess I should have given you a heads up that Marcia would be here."

"It's ok," she said, though part of her didn't mean it. She looked up at him. "How about we go out this weekend? Just you and me?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well - thing is, I promised to take Nat and Marcia to that new amusement park up north. We'll be staying in a hotel all weekend."

Her heart sank slightly. "Oh. But I thought you, me and Nat were going to go soon."

He shrugged, looking down at the ground. "Well, I wanted to go before it got too cold and they shut the park down for the season, and I - I wasn't sure what your schedule was since - since we weren't living together anymore, and - well, Marcia is so eager to reconnect with Nat, and - "

Elizabeth cut off his rambling. "It's fine, Mickey. I know Nat needs her more than she needs me. I just hope you guys have fun."

"We can get together just as soon as we get back, Lizzie. Just you and me. I'll take you out somewhere nice. Your choice, my treat."

"All right. Thanks for dinner, Mickey."

They gave each other an awkward kiss before Elizabeth pulled out of the driveway. As soon as she was safely away from the house, she burst into tears.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Fred walked in large circles around the entire neighborhood for hours, ignoring the biting cold and hunching into his coat as best he could. As he passed lighted windows, he peeked inside to see families enjoying dinner or watching TV together, maybe working a puzzle or talking. They all looked happy, or if not happy, at least content to be at home with people whom they cared about. But he couldn't quite face going back to the apartment. It wasn't his home and never would be. He didn't have a home.

Never had one, really.

His former life as a mortal, many years ago, had very rarely even crossed his mind in the century after becoming an imaginary friend. There was no reason for that miserable existence to enter his mind, not when his life was full of fun, of magic, and of making things better for people. So it was curious, after all these years, to suddenly be rummaging around in memories that he'd assumed were long forgotten, and feeling things he'd never thought he'd feel again, worrying about things he'd thought he'd never have to worry about again.

He abso-fucking-lutely hated it.

For the millionth time, he inwardly cursed Cosmo and the Powers That Be for having done this to him, for making him mortal again. Same shit, different era, that was all. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to wish that they'd done the opposite - released his spirit into whatever realm it went to after death. There were things tying him here to Earth.

Or rather, someone.

He helped keep himself warm by replaying last night's kiss over and over in his mind. He tried to stop himself - really, he did - but it was impossible. The way the light had struck Elizabeth's face as she leaned towards him, the curve of her cheeks, the feeling of her hand on the back of his neck, the smell of her soap and her perfume intoxicating him. Her soft lips - just a hint of sweetness coming from her lip balm - the slightly bitter tang of the beer she'd been drinking, the intimacy of the moment in feeling all of her leaning against all of him, came back in a rush again and again, and unending tidal wave of _wanting._

He tried in vain to shake himself out of it. He tried to tell himself that it was an accident, just as Snotface had said, a wild moment of abandon fueled by alcohol and nothing more. He was certain she didn't have any feelings for him in that way, and therefore it was completely ridiculous to want so much of her, because he could never have it.

Anyway. He was Drop Dead Fred, even if he _was_ mortal now. And Drop Dead Fred didn't need anything, or anyone, to get along in the world. He'd survived by his wits before, and he could do it again if he needed to.

When Elizabeth had shown up in front of his holding cell at the station, the shame radiating from him was palpable. The way she'd looked at him - half pity, half anger - mortified him. Sometime after his dozenth rejection from job hunting that morning, he'd gotten the bright idea to repay Elizabeth for his food and board by swiping the money from someone else. She'd never be any the wiser, and he purposely tried to find someone to rob that looked like he wouldn't go hungry for having lost his wallet. But when he'd delicately reached into the man's back pocket, the man had swiveled around like a robot, latching onto Fred's hand, and immediately locked him in handcuffs. The entire episode - from approaching the man to being slapped in irons - took about four seconds.

How the hell was _he_ supposed to know an undercover cop could look so well-off? Things had certainly changed.

The cold finally became too much for him around midnight, and he crept back to the apartment, careful to shut the door quietly. He snuck a peek into Elizabeth's room to find her fast asleep, snuggled up in bed. He'd silently gotten into his own bed on the pull-out couch, and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke the next morning to frantic shuffling of papers, and opened one eye to spot Elizabeth in the kitchen flipping through stacks of papers as though looking for something. He sat up, scratched and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Just so I'm clear," he yawned. "Are we on speaking terms today or not?"

Elizabeth shot him an even look. She was too emotionally exhausted to argue with him this early. "I guess," she said. "But I'm still mad as hell, Fred."

"Fair enough," he acquiesced. "Shall I try making breakfast again?"

"No, thanks. I can't afford to remodel my kitchen after you burn it down."

"Well, _you're_ a little ray of sunshine this morning," he quipped, standing up and stretching. "How were Fartpants and Buttbreath?"

A pained look crossed Elizabeth's face but she tamped it down as best she could. "Fine. Both fine." She paused. "Marcia was there."

"Who?"

"Nat's mother."

"RIGHT! The Rich Bitch. I remember her," Fred said, ambling over to the kitchen unhurriedly. "Still dripping diamonds, is she? Still looks like she shits gold bars and pisses champagne?"

Despite her anger, Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh a little. "Pretty much." She got quiet again for a moment. "She's...uh...moving back to town. Wants to be close to Natalie again."

Fred nodded in approval. "Well, I never liked Rich Bitch all that much, but I'm glad she wants to mend fences with Buttbreath. Buttbreath seemed rather stuck on her for some reason."

"Fred, it's her mother."

"What're you rifling through, anyway?" Fred bit noisily into an apple, figuring that would do for breakfast. "Something for work?"

"No, uh…" Her face fell. "I was fired yesterday."

"For _what?"_ Fred cried indignantly.

"As it happens, the straw that broke the camel's back was leaving early to bail my childhood imaginary friend out of jail."

Fred's eyes fell to the floor and he was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. A murmured "Oh," was all he could offer.

"Yeah." Elizabeth sighed. "So I'm trying to find a copy of my resume to plaster the city with today."

"Listen, how about this: by the end of the day today, I _promise_ I'll have a proper job, right?" Fred said simply with a shrug, taking another bite. "And so will you. And we'll make Fart Goblin take us out and buy us celebratory drinks."

Elizabeth studied his bright, earnest face for a long moment. Despite hardships thrown in their way, she was amazed at his optimism and spirit. She found herself smiling. "All right," she agreed. "You're on."

"Yeah?" Fred cried happily, grabbing her hands. "It's a deal?"

She laughed. "It's a deal, Fred. And you can start paying me back that goddamn bail money."

.

* * *

.

Elizabeth met Janie for lunch at their regular Italian place, but she was too disheartened to have a real appetite; an entire morning spent dropping into every law office in the city had netted her exactly zero interest from any prospective employers. Fred had left the apartment shortly before she did, reiterating his promise to have a job by sundown. For the first time since she could remember, Fred looked...well, contrite. Usually his apologies were quick and flippant, amounting to little more than false promises to get him back in her good graces before immediately reverting to whatever behavior had incited her anger in the first place, but his tone, and his body language, seemed to indicate otherwise this time.

It was almost as if he were scared.

"Well, I imagine it _would_ be a _little_ scary," Janie said after Elizabeth had relayed this discovery to her. "I mean, you've only been out of the working world for what, less than twenty four hours? And already _you've_ seen how hard it can be to land something. Imagine having gone _decades_ without a real, actual job."

"He'd argue until he was blue in the face that being an imaginary friend _is_ a real, actual job," Elizabeth said, playing with the straw in her water. "But I made him promise not to mention it. He's going to have a hard enough time as it is without a new boss thinking he's completely insane."

"He'll pull through somehow, and I'll get that charge dropped. But enough about Fred. I want to hear about this date with Mickey," Janie said as she scooped some pasta onto her plate.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It was...I don't even know what it was, to be honest. Marcia was there, like she was the host of a party or something. I don't think I'd ever been so uncomfortable."

Janie's eyes widened. "The _ex-wife_ went on the date with you?"

"It wasn't so much a _date,"_ Elizabeth replied, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. "Marcia cooked and served the dinner at Mickey's house, and it was like I wasn't even _there._ She's also staying there now, for a little while."

Janie nearly dropped her fork. "What? Lizzie, you can't be serious!"

Elizabeth found herself trying to rationalize Mickey's behavior: "Janie, listen. Marcia really wants to reconnect with Nat, and so she's staying at the house for a few days until she can find her own place. Just for a few days. I believe Mickey when he says they have no plans on trying to patch things up or anything. I mean, they've been divorced for a year now. _Over_ a year. Plus, Mickey is putting up with this whole _Fred and I_ thing, so I feel like I have to put up with the _him and Marcia_ thing."

"Yeah, but as far as I know, you've never slept with Fred. You've never been married to him. It's a totally different dynamic." Janie shook her head. "Listen, it took me _years_ to learn how to vocalize when something wasn't ok with me, when a situation made me feel like something wasn't quite right, even when everyone else around me told me I should be totally fine with whatever bullshit was going on." She looked Elizabeth directly in the eye and said, "If it makes you uncomfortable, tell Mickey. He should at least know how you feel."

Elizabeth sighed. "Part of me feels like I'm losing him." She looked up at her friend soberly, trying to make sense of her own thoughts. "And part of me is ok with that. And I don't know why."

Janie shrugged. "Honey, when in doubt, follow your gut. Follow. Your. Gut."

.

* * *

.

Thought Janie protested being dragged out to a local watering hole that evening - claiming that she _did actually have a life outside of you two, you know -_ she arrived at the apartment shortly after getting off work, where she found her best friend pacing the living room.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Fred's not back yet. Where could he be?" Elizabeth began to ring her hands worryingly. "I don't know where he is, if he's alright. He's been gone since early this morning. Do you think something could have happened to him?"

"Lizzie, calm down. I'm sure he's fine," Janie said, plopping down on the sofa. "Maybe he found a place that let him start today and he's not off yet."

"Maybe," Elizabeth murmured, though she didn't sound at all convinced. She had just started toying with the notion of calling the police when Fred suddenly burst in with a holler of greeting and wrapped Elizabeth in a bear hug.

"Snotface!" he bellowed. "I did it! I found a job!"

Elizabeth looked down to find he was wearing a blue jumpsuit with the name 'Earl' on it. "Where did you find a job? And who's Earl?"

"Earl's the bloke what had the job before me," Fred explained quickly, dusting his jumpsuit off with his hands proudly. "He fell off a ladder and broke his head or something. Anyway, I got his job!"

"Doing what?" Janie asked, looking at the filthy jumpsuit. "And _where?"_

"Right here at this apartment complex!" Fred crowed. "I'm the new repair man!"

"Repair man?" Elizabeth echoed. "Fred, do you know anything about maintenance and repair?"

"Nope!" Appearing nonplussed, he sat down next to Janie. "The hiring man said if I was a _crazy enough bastard to want the job_ then he wasn't going to try to stop me." He beamed up at Elizabeth. "I start in the morning!"

Elizabeth tried to appear upbeat; she supposed everyone had to start somewhere. "That's - that's great, Fred. Congratulations."

"Not sure I'd want to live anywhere that has you as a repair guy, pooka-man, but it's a paycheck if nothing else," Janie said. "So are we going out to celebrate, or what?"

"As long as you're buying, Fart Goblin. Only real reason to hang out with two girls all night."

"Fred."

"Hm?"

"At least change your clothes first, ok?"

This done, the trio headed to a local place and found a table in the corner. Janie and Fred were soon absorbed in a competitive dart game, each egging the other on with insults and profanity. They even got Elizabeth to join the game, and soon all three were laughing and hollering as their beers were quickly drained and the music got louder. Elizabeth almost forgot how angry she was at Fred and cackled with glee when she beat him twice in a row at darts.

Needing to sit down for a bit, she relinquished her turn in the game and returned to the table.

"Hi there," a purring voice came from behind her shortly thereafter.

She turned to find a large man with sandy-blonde hair and bright green eyes smiling warmly at her. He nodded down to her almost-empty glass of beer. "Will you let me buy you another?"

"Oh, I'm not - I mean, I have a boyfriend. He isn't here tonight, but I doubt he'd like a stranger buying me drinks."

The man's smile broadened. "I didn't ask if you had a boyfriend. I asked if I could buy you a drink."

A year ago, even if Elizabeth hadn't been married, she would have simpered and let this slide, so used to having others think and act for her. She stole another glance at Fred. "Listen, let's be real here," Elizabeth said, turning back to the man next to her. "A guy walks up to a woman sitting at a bar and asks to buy her a drink. He's not looking for just a friend. So I thought I'd save us all the bullshit. I can buy my own beer."

The man looked crestfallen for only a second. "I admire forthrightness. In a girlfriend _or_ a friend." He, too, glanced over at Fred. "And I'm not looking to step on anyone's toes tonight. I'm sorry if it came off that way. I'm Mark."

"Would you excuse me?" she abruptly said. "I need to visit the ladies' room."

On her way to the bathroom, she passed a payphone, and before she even really thought about it, she was dialing Mickey's number.

She heard Nat and Marcia's laughter first, and then a laughing "Hello?" from Mickey on the other end.

"Mickey?"

"Lizzie! Hi! What're you up to?"

"Just out with Janie," she said over the din of the music. She figured a little white lie couldn't hurt. "Just wondering how you and Nat were doing."

"We're having a family game night, and Nat is wiping the floor with both me and her mom!" he chuckled, and Elizabeth continued to hear laughter in the background as her heart sank slightly. She'd started the tradition of family game night, and some part of her smarted from not having been invited. "I don't know what tricks you taught this kid, but she's the best Clue player _I've_ ever played against!"

Clue. Elizabeth had taught Natalie that game. She closed her eyes. "Well it - it sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun. I don't want to disturb you."

"You're not disturbing anything!" Mickey said, though it didn't sound whole-hearted. Elizabeth could tell he was eager to get back to the game. "Do you - you want to come over?" This, too, sounded half-hearted.

"No, no," Elizabeth replied quickly. "I know Nat has to be in bed soon. Just tell her I said hi, would you? Have a good night and - and I love you."

"You too, Lizzie. Night!" And with that, Mickey was gone.

She stalled in the bathroom for a while, going over Mickey's last words to her. He didn't say _I love you,_ just _you too_ when she'd said it. Sighing, she made a fierce face in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't going to be that person - she wasn't going to use silly, off-hand words to get upset over. Mickey loved her. He'd said it a thousand times before.

That was going to have to be good enough for now.

Heaving a sigh, she slung her purse around her shoulder and opened the door to slip out.

And slipped right into Mark's arms.

"Hey there, I thought you'd left me!" he murmured playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, squirming to get away from him.

"Oh, come on now! All this silliness about a mysterious boyfriend who just happens not to be with you tonight?" His laugh was wet and gurgling; the laugh of someone well on the way to drunkenness. "You don't have to lie to me, sweetheart. Like I said, I won't bite." His arms tightened. "Not unless you want me to, anyway."

The vestibule by the ladies room was, she realized with a dawning fear, dark and out of sight from the rest of the bar area, and an exit door to the alleyway was directly to her left. Mark's arms were strong, and she knew all it would take to get her out that door and into a dark alley with a stranger was just a few tugs by this horrible man.

"Please just let me go!" she said, this time a little louder.

"If you were _my_ girlfriend, I'd never make you sit at a bar alone," he purred, leaning down and nibbling at her neck, pulling her close to him.

Elizabeth was just about to let loose the most blood-curdling scream she could muster when suddenly it seemed as though Mark was torn away from her as if by hurricane force winds, and his expression betrayed surprise as he was whirled around to face an irate red-headed man.

Fred shoved him against the wall, his face like flint, his eyes fiery. "Just what in the hell do you think you're _doing?!"_ he growled in a deep, gruff voice Elizabeth hadn't even realized Fred possessed.

Mark, perhaps realizing that he had no real line of defense, shoved Fred. Fred, Elizabeth noticed, didn't move an inch when shoved; he was like a brick wall standing between her and this cretin. "Hey, just how about you mind your own _business?"_ Mark returned.

Fred didn't move but shot back, " _Not fucking bloody likely."_

Mark threw the first punch, and though he was physically bigger than Fred, Fred dodged his fist with ease and landed two on Mark's face before he could even stand up straight. The larger man lunged towards him, grabbing Fred by the collar of his coat, and reeled his fist back to strike again, but Fred took advantage of his stance and socked the man deep in the stomach, followed immediately by an uppercut under his chin. The audible _crunk_ of lower teeth meeting upper teeth made Elizabeth's stomach turn.

With a snarl, Mark held steadfast to Fred's collar, and though winded, managed to smash his rock-hard fist into Fred's face twice - _boom, boom -_ and then land a third strike to Fred's ribs. People had begun to gather around the pair, and the bartender had already started calling the police. Fred dodged a fourth strike, turning around and in one motion cracking his right elbow into Mark's ribs, swiveling on his heel and then landing a knockout punch to Mark's cheekbone.

The larger man's eyes rolled in his head and he slid down the wall, barely conscious and murmuring as blood seeped from his nose. Fred stood over him, panting and bleeding from cuts on his face and nose, and turned to Elizabeth.

"Snotface," he panted. "You all right?"

Janie didn't wait for Elizabeth's answer as she grabbed both of them frantically and pushed them towards the exit. "C'mon, Muhammad Ali, we've got to get out of here!" she cried. "Let's _move it,_ _ándele, ándele!"_

It was past eleven by the time the trio arrived back at Elizabeth's apartment. All three had been mostly silent on the short car ride back, with Fred rubbing his already aching-face and Elizabeth shivering in the backseat, her emotions a jumble. Only Janie ventured to speak a few times, saying things like, "I'm a lawyer, Lizzie. Just say the word and I'll sue that guy back to the stone age," and "I think we got out of there just in time, kids. You were arrested yesterday, Fred, and although I could probably get you out of _that_ , getting arrested again _today_ wouldn't look too hot, even if it wasn't your fault."

Elizabeth realized it was just Janie's way of being concerned for them. Janie wasn't the type to say normal things like, _I'm so glad you're all right!_ Nope, with Janie, it was always something along the lines of, _I'll sue that guy for everything he's worth! Pro bono! C'mon, it'll be fun!_

"Listen, are you sure you two are going to be ok?" Janie asked, hanging out of the driver's side window as Fred and Elizabeth started to make their way up the sidewalk leading to the apartment. "I wasn't kidding about a lawsuit."

"It's fine, Janie," Elizabeth said quietly.

"He's going to need a few bandaids. Maybe even a few stitches."

"I'll take care of it."

"Call me in the morning, Lizzie. You hear me? Call me."

"I will, I will," she promised, backing away from the car. Fred stood listlessly in front of the door, waiting for Elizabeth to unlock it, rubbing a cheekbone. Her face crumpled in concern as she fumbled for her keys. "Come on, Fred. I've got a first aid kit inside. Let's take a look at the damage, ok?"

"I'm ok!" Fred protested, though even in the dim light of the hallway Elizabeth could see the sheen of drying blood on his face. Her heart seemed to constrict in her chest at the sight. "Really, Snotface, I don't need anything."

"Yes, you do," she countered in a worried voice, pushing the door open and pulling him inside. She pushed him down into one of the kitchen chairs. "Wait right there," she commanded, then went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. When she returned, she flipped on the overhead light and gasped at Fred's face.

Mark's fists seem to have caught Fred on his right cheekbone and on the left side of his nose, leading up towards his left eye, which was already starting to change color to a light purple. Blood seeped from the wound on his cheekbone and one on his nose, though it didn't appear broken. Swallowing hard, her hands shaking, she somehow managed to get the kit's lid open and sat down on the chair next to him. Frantically, her vision blurring with tears, she sifted through the materials, trying to find some hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. She suddenly felt a hand on hers, and looked up to find Fred watching her carefully.

"Lizzie, I'm ok," he repeated in a softer voice. He tried to crack a smile and failed. "It wasn't my first fight, Snotface. Don't get upset. It was sort of nice to spar with someone who could actually see me for once."

Against her will, a small sob escaped her and she reached for the box of Kleenex on the table. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just - I haven't see you hurt since the Pill Fiasco, and it's awful. I forgot how horrible it is to see someone I care about hurting, especially because of me."

Fred's face softened a bit and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It wasn't your fault," he assured her gently. "And it was no problem, Snotface. I would have faced a hundred of 'em for you." He sat up straighter, embarrassed that this last sentence had slipped out, but Elizabeth only smiled and wiped her tears away.

"Sit still," she directed gently, pouring a little hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball. "This might sting a little."

She dabbed at the bloody areas, making Fred wince, and wiped away the blood. Seeing that the cuts weren't deep enough to necessitate stitches, she breathed a sigh of relief and tenderly placed a few bandaids over the cuts. "There," she murmured. "Now let's see your ribs."

"What?" he asked indignantly. "Why?"

"Fred, you might have broken a few of them. Just lift your shirt and let me look."

A warm tingle seemed to run through Fred at her words, though he tried to ignore it. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts for a moment before gingerly lifting the side of his shirt to bear the ribs on his right side, where Mark had struck him. This time it was Elizabeth's turn to wince at the bluish tint of his ribs. She ran a clinical hand over them, making Fred jump. She looked startled.

"Did that hurt?" she asked in a concerned voice.

It hadn't - in fact, he'd barely felt it - but the contact of Elizabeth's hand on his skin had sent another jolting warm tingle up his spine that he hadn't been prepared for.

"Breathe in deeply," she instructed. "Tell me if it's painful."

He inhaled deeply, and although it made his ribs ache somewhat, they definitely weren't broken or fractured. He shook his head. "Shipshape, Lizzie. They're fine. The stupid git wasn't as strong as he looked."

"Are you sure? Because I mean - "

"Listen, I _have_ had broken ribs before, Snotface," he said somewhat impatiently, pulling his shirt back down. "And it hurt a whole _hell_ of a lot more than they hurt now. Like I told you, I'm _fine."_

She was studying him carefully. "Fred, can I ask you something?" she asked slowly. "You said it wasn't your first fight, and that you've broken ribs before...I mean, where? When? I - " She shook her head, her thoughts in disarray. A million questions that had floated around in her head since Cosmo's visit roiled just beneath the surface. "Mark was so much bigger than you, but you laid him out in thirty seconds _flat._ I mean - "

"I'm a scrapper, Snotface. Always have been," Fred explained simply with a bit of bravado. "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog. Right?"

"Especially when you feel like you're fighting for something or...or someone?" she asked quietly, her eyes finally meeting his and seeming to pierce deeply.

Again he swallowed hard, his voice failing for a moment, and averted his eyes. "I never could stand seeing you being mistreated, whether by your mother or Charlie-Boy or some shitstain in a pub."

"I know," she agreed, small tears beginning to spill over her eyelids. Before she could stop herself, she'd pulled Fred into her for a hug, and they said there in silence in the small dining area for a moment, holding each other tightly. "I'm glad you're here, Fred. I don't think I've told you that enough since you came back."

He held her closely, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her perfume. "You're getting sappy, Snotface," he pointed out, but his tone was not unkind. "I think those beers went to your head."

She gave a sniffling laugh in return and pulled back slightly until they were face to face. Fred froze, their eyes locked on one another. Another warm jolt blazed up his spine, while Elizabeth seemed almost entranced by being this close to him. They seemed to study one another for a long moment, and it took everything that Fred had in him not to push forward and let his lips find Elizabeth's.

But she'd been clear; it wasn't that _him_ she loved.

Reluctantly, he broke away and gave her a small smile which she returned. "You'd better get to bed," she murmured. "First day tomorrow and all." He nodded somewhat absently as she stood up and began walking to her bedroom. "And Fred?" She turned around. "Listen...thanks for tonight...for looking out for me."

He gave her another small smile. "Told you before, Snotface. It's what I do. It's why I'm Fred. Mortal or not."

Her last glance of him was Fred sitting at the table, one light on, staring into space, looking faraway and dreamy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The next morning, Fred awoke to the fiery ache that comes the day after a fight. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like. He rose before Elizabeth and took a long look at himself in the mirror. Fine image to project on the first day of a new job! His eye was swollen, but luckily still open, and the cuts on his cheeks looked worse than they felt. His ribs still ached, but it was tolerable.

He dressed in the jumpsuit and left before Elizabeth had even woken up. For her part, Elizabeth dawdled in the apartment as long as possible, seeing as how she didn't really have anyplace she had to be. Around 10am, she grabbed another stack of resumes and spent the rest of the morning and afternoon giving them to anyone that even gave her a second glance. Their plastic smiles told her that her resume would be in the trash can before she even got back to her car _._

Around 2:30, she looked at the clock on her car dash and realized Natalie would be getting out of school soon. Smiling, she decided to surprise the little girl by picking her up from school and taking her out for ice cream. It was something she did only once in awhile, to keep it a special treat, and her mood lifted as she made her way towards the school.

She waited in the parking lot and kept a sharp eye out for Natalie, who emerged from the school shortly thereafter. "Nat!" she shouted across the crowd of kids. "Over here, sweetie!"

Natalie caught sight of Elizabeth and smiled broadly, running towards her. Elizabeth laughed happily as they embraced.

"Hey kiddo, how was school?" she said.

"Good. What are you doing here, Lizzie?" Natalie asked.

"Welllll, I thought maybe you and me could go out for some ice cream," Elizabeth said, expecting Natalie's face to light up at the offer. Instead, she looked a little confused.

"Oh. Well, Mommy is going to pick me up and we're going to the movies, then we're going to meet Daddy for dinner."

Elizabeth felt her heart sink in her chest but she forced herself to keep smiling. "That sounds like a lot of fun, Nat. I guess we can go out for ice cream next week."

"Yeah, we - Mommy!" Natalie shouted, having spotted her mother and begun to run towards her. Marcia hugged her and lifted the girl off the ground for a moment, spinning her around. "Mommy, guess what? Lizzie's here!"

Marcia's gaze found Elizabeth, and she smiled as she approached the other woman. "Lizzie! What a nice surprise! What are you doing here?"

"I was...I was going to take Nat out for some ice cream like we do sometimes. But she says you guys have plans."

"Yeah," Marcia said, somewhat apologetically. "Of course, you're welcome to join us."

"No," Elizabeth said a little too quickly, then tried to hide it with a smile. "I mean, I have to be getting home soon anyway."

"Too bad," Marcia cooed, playing with Natalie's hair. "Natalie, the car's running. Go ahead and put your backpack inside." Natalie complied, skipping away. Marcia's eyes again met Elizabeth's. "Listen, Lizzie...Mickey said you might have gotten the wrong idea the other night at dinner. About he and I, I mean. I just want you to know that he's the one that asked me to stay at the house. It wasn't something I suggested or demanded."

"No, it's...he explained it to me. And I think it's great." Elizabeth demurely tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Natalie really missed you, Marcia. I know she's glad to have you back, and that's what's important. I just...Mickey and I didn't break up. We just decided to take things a little slower."

"Mickey's never been about being slow," Marcia laughed with the familiarity that comes from knowing someone very well for many years, making Elizabeth feel slightly uncomfortable. "But everyone moves at their own pace. For me, I moved on way too quickly after the divorce." She sighed. "And in a way, I think Mickey did too."

Elizabeth's face hardened for a moment, wondering if this was a sly dig at her, but shook it off. "Mickey and I are just both coming out of a difficult time in our lives, Marcia. So it's all pretty confusing right now."

"Hey listen, I know it. It's just - look, Lizzie, so many things are in flux right now. I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

Before Elizabeth could ask her what she meant, Natalie honked the horn of Marcia's late model Lexus impatiently, and Marcia gave Elizabeth an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Lizzie. Gotta run. Look forward to seeing you again soon."

And with that, they were gone, leaving Elizabeth sitting in a rapidly-emptying parking lot and wondering what the hell to do with herself.

She arrived home about an hour later, after some aimless driving and contemplation, and was startled to find Fred in the hallway, a bucket of tools at his feet, and a large keyring full of keys in his hands.

"Snotface!" he greeted her happily.

She smiled, some part of her glad that _someone_ was glad to see her. "Hi Fred. What're you up to?"

"Apartment above yours has a leak. Heading up to take a look," he answered.

She frowned. "You know how to fix leaks?"

"Not really," Fred admitted musingly. "But I should be able to fix it with one of these tool thingies here. Must be a 'leak fixer' somewhere in there," he said, nodding down to the tool bucket.

She pursed her lips, and nodded agreeably. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to get into. "Ok. See you at dinner."

She flipped on the TV but just sat numbly on the couch, ignoring it in favor of all the thoughts in her head. She'd never felt so disconnected from Mickey and Natalie before, and started wondering if she'd made the right decision in moving out. She felt certain Marcia wouldn't be there if Elizabeth hadn't left, although in the end it hardly mattered. Somehow, she felt as though she was being politely removed from their lives, slowly but surely. Maybe they felt she'd abandoned them, and in turn, they'd found someone who was really ready to make a commitment to them. Perhaps, she thought, that's only fair.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knocking at her door, and she opened it to reveal a heavy, moustached man who reeked of cigarette smoke on the other side. "Where's your boyfriend?" he barked in lieu of a greeting.

Elizabeth sputtered for a moment and said, "What?"

"Fred. Where's Fred?"

"Oh, he's not my - listen, it doesn't matter. He said he was going to fix a leak in the apartment above mi - "

She was cut off mid-sentence by a gigantic splintering, cracking sound and she turned just in time to see half of her ceiling collapse, bringing with it someone's kitchen sink and Fred into her living room, surrounded by insulation and followed quickly by a river of running water. Her jaw dropped.

"Goddammit!" the man on the other side of the door bellowed, barging into her apartment as though he owned it. Fred sat up in the midst of the debris, covered in dust and sputtering. "What the hell did you _do?_ It was just a little leak from the faucet!"

"It wasn't _my_ fault!" Fred protested, getting to his feet shakily and trying to dust himself off, which only resulted in dust being thrown around the ruined living room. "The leak fixer thingy in my bucket is _obviously_ faulty!"

"You only had to tighten a few fittings, for chrissakes! Don't you know your head from your ass?"

The moustached man, who could only be Fred's boss, continued to argue hotly with a filthy Fred in the middle of her living room while Elizabeth looked on dumbly, not daring to get near the now-huge hole in her ceiling. From the apartment above, she could hear a woman begin to scream and curse.

Elizabeth put a hand to her face, stepped out into the hallway calmly, and closed the door quietly behind her. She'd already felt like she was going to lose her mind - the scene inside her apartment at the moment could easily push her over the edge. She had just begun to take a few deep, cleansing breaths as Janie always taught her to do when a familiar voice pierced the air.

"Elizabeth!" came Polly's voice from down the hallway. Elizabeth's eyes startled open and she caught sight of her mother steaming down the hallway. "What in _God's name_ is going on in there? I could hear yelling all the way from outside!"

"Nothing, Mother," she lied quickly in an even voice. "Just a little trouble with maintenance. They're sorting it out." She gave her mother a stiff smile and they exchanged an even stiffer hug. "How are you, Mother?"

"Well, I'd be better if I had any idea what was going on in my daughter's life. Seems like I have to get all my updates from outside sources these days," Polly replied crisply. "I ran into Clint Washington last night at a charity auction. He told me the whole story about how you'd been fired after not coming into work for _days_. _Honestly,_ Elizabeth, what's gotten into you lately?"

Elizabeth fought the urge to heave a sigh, and instead rubbed her forehead. "Things have just been a little...chaotic lately," she murmured. As if to illustrate her point, Fred's boss suddenly ripped open the door, still yelling obscenities at Fred and barged out into the hallway.

"I don't know where you found that knucklehead, but you _should_ have left him in whatever nuthouse you picked him up in," the boss spat. "That's a hazard in there. You'll need to vacate this property immediately. You know that, dontcha?"

Elizabeth's mind numbed further and she suddenly felt incredibly weary. "I - I suppose so."

"You do that. And then don't come back," the boss said, wiping his hands on a towel and beginning to march down the hallway.

"Wait a minute!" Elizabeth called after him. "I have a _lease,_ you can't just - "

"That orange-haired bonehead said he's livin' with you," the boss said sharply, jabbing his index finger in her direction. "And that's a _violation_ of your lease, because I know for a _fact_ he ain't on your lease. So it's cancelled, as of now."

"You can't just throw me out!" Elizabeth protested.

"Oh yes I can, and if you don't believe me, I'm sure the police can explain it to you if you aren't outta there _real_ soon," the boss bellowed, beginning to disappear down the staircase. "And the leasing office ain't gonna be real sympathetic once they realize it was _your_ unauthorized roommate that caused tens of thousands of dollars in damage!"

These were his last words to her as he slammed out of the building. Still in shock, Elizabeth's eyes wandered to her mother, who looked every bit as shocked.

" _Elizabeth,"_ she said in a low tone reserved for when Elizabeth had done something horrible as a child. "That _man_ is living with you? The one who was in your bed?"

"Mother, it's a long story, and I don't feel up to telling it," Elizabeth responded tiredly, clutching her head. "Everything is just happening so fast...I haven't even had time to process it all."

Fred finally emerged from the apartment, covered in dust and his face swollen from his wounds. "Is he gone?" he whispered to Elizabeth. "I thought that vein on his forehead was going to burst!"

"So _you're_ the suitor!" Polly said darkly, looking Fred up and down as though he were a piece of litter on the street. "Who are you? What are you doing to my daughter? Why do you look like you've been in a _brawl? Elizabeth,_ is this _really_ the man you left Mickey for? A man who gets in fights, keeps you from going to work so you get fired, and then gets you thrown out of your apartment all inside of a _week?"_

"Oi! Listen, Mega Bitch, you've got it all wrong!" Fred snapped. "Who invited _you_ , anyway?"

Polly looked as though she'd been struck and gaped like a fish out of water for a moment before turning back to her daughter. "Elizabeth, I don't know what's going on here and I'm not going to stand here and be _insulted_ by an idiot who's ruining your life. If this is what you want, then fine. But I _raised_ you better than that."

"Yes, Mother, you're right," Elizabeth said flatly. "My life _is_ falling apart. But the last thing I need is you making me feel like shit about it. I already know I'm a total failure." She turned and walked slowly through the apartment (trying to ignore the carnage in the living room), and climbed under the blankets of her bed, curling up into a fetal position without a sound.

Polly recovered herself almost immediately and turned her ire to Fred. "I don't know who you are, mister, but unless you're dumber than a rock, even _you_ have to realize what you're doing to Lizzie. How can you _stand_ yourself? Aren't you _ashamed?"_

Fred was only half-listening, his head turned towards the open door of the apartment, Elizabeth's last sentence echoing in his head: _I already know I'm a total failure. I already know I'm a total failure. I already know I'm a total failure._

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" Polly demanded, pulling at Fred's sleeve. He snapped out of his thoughts, shook free of her grasp, and scowled. He leaned in close to her.

"Maybe the only good thing about this entire debacle is the fact that for the first time, I get to tell you exactly what I think about you," Fred hissed, almost nose to nose with Polly, his eyes fiery. "You'd never believe me if I told you how I know what I know about you. But it doesn't matter. You may have raised Lizzie, but you were no mother. Even some part of your little reptilian brain must realize that much. I watched how you treated her. How you still treat her. You treat her like it's a personal failing on her part that she isn't living _your_ life. Well, let me tell you a few things, Mega Bitch, and you're going to _listen."_ Here, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, making Polly shiver a little with fear. "No one should be forced to endure the sad slog you call your life. No one should inflict that on others. Because the truth is, no one should be forced to endure you, either." He released her. "Now get out of here. And don't come back."

Stunned, Polly turned and as if in a dream, wandered out. Fred watched her go before turning back into the apartment, when he sat down heavily on the couch, holding his head, his face aching.

"She's gone?" Elizabeth's soft voice broke through his haze. He looked up, and nodded slowly.

"She's gone," Fred replied quietly.

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, tears beginning to fall down her face. "Fred, answer me something. I want an honest answer."

He shifted slightly uncomfortably but said, "Alright, Snotface."

"Why are you here?" She sniffed, a few more tears cascading down her cheeks. Fred felt a sharp pang in his chest at seeing the tears he'd helped to cause. "I mean, why did they send you back? And why did they send you to me?"

Fred swallowed hard and averted his gaze. "I don't know," he muttered, though it sounded false even to him. "Maybe like everyone else I've ever been around, they wanted me gone."

"No," Elizabeth said calmly. "No, that's not it. Tell me."

"I broke the Rules."

"You can't be the first pooka to have ever broken the Rules."

Fred closed his eyes. "Elizabeth, I just don't know." He ran a hand over his face. "Did you mean it when you said you feel like a total failure?"

A sob was stuck in Elizabeth's throat but she refused to free it. Instead, she gazed out the window. "In the past week, Fred, I've lost my boyfriend, my job, and my apartment. I don't have anywhere to go. I don't have any money. And all I ever asked of you was that you try. You _try."_

Fred didn't respond, not trusting himself to look up at her. "I've made some mistakes, Snotface. I'm sorry. Really. I'm so very sorry."

Elizabeth laughed a mirthless laugh. "No, Fred. A _mistake_ is when you get on the wrong bus, or you don't watch where you're going and trip over a curb. Your hand didn't just _mistakenly_ try to get the wallet out of some guy's back pocket. You didn't _mistakenly_ take a job you couldn't do, didn't _mistakenly_ get me in trouble with everyone from mall cops to my bosses, didn't _mistakenly_ come into my life again. It was deliberate." Though she'd felt numb up until then, she soon found the anger rising in her again. "And do you think, even if you'd gotten away with all of it, that I want a _thief_ living under my roof?"

Fred's jaw tightened slightly and before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, "That sounds exactly like something the Mega Bitch would say."

This was, he knew immediately, the wrong thing to have said and he instantly regretted it.

"How _dare_ you?" Elizabeth burst. "Jesus Christ, Fred, you show up half-dead, nowhere to go, I take you _in, risking_ my relationship with Mickey, I _feed_ you, I buy you new _clothes,_ I do it all without so much as a _thank you,_ and then I ask you to do _one thing -_ I ask you to get a job, and what do you do instead? You try to _rob_ someone, and you aren't upset because you're a thief, you're upset because you got _caught,_ I spend all the money I'd saved for next month's rent and electricity - leaving me _nothing_ to move out with - to get you out of jail, _losing my job in the process,_ and then you _ruin my apartment and get me kicked out,_ and then you sit on _my_ couch and tell me _I'm exactly like my mother?!"_

She picked up an empty coffee mug on the side of the sink and flung it at Fred, who ducked. The cup exploded against the wall and Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. Fred, for once, was rendered speechless, gawking dumbly at Elizabeth.

She swallowed her sob, willing her tone to remain even. "I'm packing a bag and going to Janie's for a while until things settle down and I can find us a new place," she said quietly. "In the meantime, you might want to stay here and think about how to make things better if you want to stay in my life, Fred."

Not waiting for a response, she threw some clothes into a bag and left the apartment a few moments later, leaving Fred on the couch where he'd sat motionless throughout the entire argument.

The sun set in the sky, and the apartment became dark except for the moonlight shining in through the windows. It was silent in the apartment, and even the woman above them had evidently left, for not a sound was to be heard. Fred sat upright, hands on his knees, almost as if he were meditating, his eyes practically burning a hole in one spot of the carpet. His brain was full of thoughts, and he wasn't even sure where to start.

One thing he knew for sure: His Snotface felt like a failure, and he knew that a lot of those failures were because of him. He'd caused them, however inadvertently. Her suffering was in large part because of him. And that would not do.

All he had ever wanted - all he had ever worked for, as her friend - had been her happiness. Even now, that's all he wanted for her. It's why he'd helped her figure out who she really was when she was lost in the quagmire of her unhealthy, unhappy marriage. It's why he'd taught her to stand up to her mother for the first time since she was a child. And yet, as a mortal, he'd made her desperately unhappy.

He'd never been very good at being mortal. That wasn't her failing, and she shouldn't suffer for _his_ failures. And there was really only one solution to the problem.

Fred packed a meager bag with the heaviest of his scant clothing and a few tins of food, threw on a coat, took one last look around the apartment, and left without a sound.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Elizabeth knocked wearily on Janie's door several times before Janie opened it slowly in her bathrobe. She looked Elizabeth up and down, noting her friend's exhausted and defeated expression, and ushered her in without a word, pulling her into a hug.

"That bad, huh?" she asked.

In response, Elizabeth burst into tears.

It was a full hour before Elizabeth could put coherent sentences together to tell Janie what all had happened since she'd last seen her, with Janie making sympathetic noises here and there.

"I just don't know what to do," Elizabeth moaned into a tissue. "I feel like my life has fallen apart for the second time inside of two years."

"I'll tell you exactly what you're going to do," Janie said decisively, getting up and moving towards the linen closet. "I'm going to make up the spare bedroom for you. You're going to get some rest. Tomorrow, you're going to go get your clothes out of that stupid little apartment before they rope it off. You're not going to say one word to Fred if you see him. You're not going to call your mother. Then, you're going to come back here, I'm going to cook us a huge, carb-laden meal, and we'll drink wine until the walls are spinning."

A relieved smile escaped Elizabeth as she blew her nose one last time. "Thanks, Janie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hey, that's what best friends are for, right?"

She collapsed into an exhausted sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and didn't awaken until the sun was already high in the sky. She took a quick shower then steeled her nerves for the trip over to the apartment.

The front door sported an "Unfit for Habitation" notice, which she left untouched as she unlocked the door and slipped inside. The ruin of her living room greeted her, as did the furniture that had been new and clean up until yesterday when it was destroyed right along with the ceiling and carpet. Wincing from the thought of how much money she'd lost, she called out for Fred, and hearing no answer, crept into the bedroom to also find it empty.

The next hour was spent packing up the rest of her clothes, the linens, dishes and anything else portable that she could squeeze into her car. She toyed with the notion of calling Mickey to come help her, but decided against it. While he'd be happy to see she was moving out, she didn't want to have to explain why her living room didn't have a ceiling and who was responsible for it.

She toyed with the notion of leaving Fred a note, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Fred had a preternatural knack for being able to find her wherever she was anyway, and she supposed that couldn't have changed _too_ much since he'd been made human. Besides, he knew she wouldn't want to move back in with Mickey while Marcia was still there, would rather _die_ than move back in with her mother, and Janie was the only other person really close with her. Fred would figure it out.

And maybe once she'd had a few days to cool down, they might actually be able to talk.

Remembering the packet of documents that Cosmo had left for Fred that proved him to be a real, actual human, she took the packet out of the drawer and shoved it on top of one of the boxes. She'd give it back to him whenever he turned up.

He always turned up. She wasn't worried.

Elizabeth arrived back at Janie's around five and was unsurprised to see that Janie wasn't home yet. Her friend often worked crazy hours, seeing as she was a partner at the prestigious law firm where she worked. Elizabeth threw all the boxes in the corner of the spare bedroom and flopped down in front of the phone, dialing Mickey's number.

Naturally, because she couldn't catch a break, Marcia answered.

"Hi Marcia, it's Lizzie," she said. "Is Mickey home yet?"

"Sure, he's right here," Marcia chirped.

Elizabeth's jaw tightened in realization that they must have been standing very close together, because only a second later Mickey greeted her, "Hey Lizzie! How's it going?"

She twirled the phone cord around her finger. "I've had better days. I had to vacate my apartment. Permanently."

"What? Why?"

"There was a...problem. With the ceiling. And the plumbing. And, well, everything."

"Where are you and Fred now?"

"I'm at Janie's. Without Fred."

"Oh?" Mickey said, his tone unreadable. "Everything ok?"

"It will be," Elizabeth answered in what she hoped was an optimistic voice. "What with having no job and no apartment, I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands. How about you come to Janie's for dinner tomorrow? I can cook your favorite."

Mickey seemed to hesitate for a moment but finally consented. "Sure. Yeah. That sounds great, Lizzie. Can't wait."

A small smile crept up her face. "Wonderful. See you at six tomorrow."

Elizabeth spent the next morning again plastering her resume all over town, then spent three hours in the afternoon cooking and putting on her best outfit, carefully applying makeup and removing it until she achieved perfection. Her feet slipped into her nicest heels and she was just putting on her earrings when Janie strode in, throwing her briefcase in the corner.

"Geez kid, you look great," Janie said. "What's the occasion?"

"Mickey's coming over for dinner."

Janie watched her carefully for a moment then added, "What're you so nervous about, then?"

"I'm not nervous," Elizabeth replied, surprised that Janie had picked up on her mood so easily. "Just...excited."

"Please. If I know you, you spent hours preparing an over-the-top meal, even making sure that all the basil on the potatoes was perfectly evenly distributed. Now you're paying more attention to your boobs than I bet even Mickey has ever done." Elizabeth quickly pulled her dress up a bit to hide the cleavage she'd been inspecting. Janie chuckled and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Listen, honey. He's already your boyfriend, ok? You shouldn't feel like you have to compete with the ex-wife."

"Janie." Elizabeth spun around to meet her gaze. "Don't be silly, of course I don't have to compete. Like you said, he's already my boyfriend. I just...I just want this evening to go really well, ok? Things have been so weird lately, and I want to see where we stand."

Janie raised an eyebrow. "Want me to suddenly have an emergency across town that I have to disappear for?"

Elizabeth said nothing, biting her lip and allowing her eyes to drop to the floor, seeming to debate with herself, which made Janie chuckle.

"All right, Lizzie. Loud and clear. But only this once, and not in my bed, ok?"

Elizabeth turned beet red. "Janie!"

Janie, true to her word, left shortly after Mickey arrived, making the excuse that her mother had fallen ill and she had to go tend her for the night, leaving Elizabeth and Mickey to enjoy their meal alone.

"Janie sure does have a nice house," Mickey said, looking around the dining room in awe. "This type of molding costs a fortune."

"Really?" Elizabeth let her eyes roam the molding. "Well, Janie's never been short of money."

"Must be nice, eh?"

Elizabeth let a smile escape her. "Yeah, really."

Mickey poked at his food. "So...uh...how's Fred?"

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her plate. "He's fine, I guess. Haven't seen him in a couple days."

"Is that...a permanent thing?"

She shifted in her seat. "Look, let's not talk about Fred, ok? Tonight is about us, and no one else."

Mickey smiled and shrugged. "Suits me."

Their conversation was light and flirtatious, almost like it had been during their first few months together, and their banter fell into an easy rhythm as they finished their meal and took their wine to the couch. They laughed at silly memories, and the names "Fred" and "Marcia" never came up. Whether it was the wine or the first truly uninterrupted time they'd had together in what felt like months, they soon found themselves in the spare bedroom with the lights turned down low.

A couple of hours later, Mickey reluctantly told Elizabeth he needed to get going as he threw on his clothes. "I told Marcia I'd be back in time to tuck Nat in." He glanced at his watch and his face fell. "Well. I'll still tuck her in. She just won't be awake when I do it."

Elizabeth curled the blankets around her. "How's Marcia's house search going?"

Mickey shrugged as he started lacing up his shoes. "To be honest, she hasn't had much time to look, what with the business, and Nat, and all of that. Looks like it'll be a little longer than we originally thought."

She tried not to let the disappointment show in her eyes. "I'm sure Nat loves it," she said quietly.

"Oh, sure. They get along like gangbusters. It's just…" He turned to her, smiling. "It's just so different now, somehow. Almost like Marcia had to go and prove to herself that she could be successful before she'd just let herself be happy. And that makes Nat happy, and so that makes _me_ happy."

Elizabeth tried to smile but failed. "Since I'm not living with Fred anymore, and I don't have that apartment anymore, maybe you could suggest to Marcia she ramp up her search."

She had hoped that Mickey would be excited at this veiled reference to moving back in with he and Nat, or at the very least see some relief in his eyes from the fact that she wasn't living with Fred, but instead she only saw a flash of irritation as he threw his sweater back on.

"Come on, Lizzie, it isn't tit for tat."

A puzzled expression crossed Elizabeth's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't need to kick Marcia out just because you kicked Fred out. That isn't how it works," he said, not looking her in the eyes. "I realize it's unorthodox, and I understand it's not the most comfortable thing for you to deal with, but - "

"That's the understatement of the year."

" - But we're doing the best we can." His eyes flashed for a moment. "And anyway, _you're_ the one that wanted to move out. I pleaded with you not to."

Elizabeth stared up at him, comprehension beginning to dawn.

She had never known Mickey to be a jealous man. In fact, he didn't seem to possess a jealous bone in his body. Had he taken her moving out as a kind of betrayal, and her letting Fred move in as a kind of affront? Is _that_ why he'd asked Marcia to stay with he and Nat while she got on her feet? Was it all just a way of saying, _You want to leave? Fine. You can be replaced._

"Are you _jealous?"_ Elizabeth said, gobsmacked. "You're jealous that I moved out? Jealous about _Fred,_ of all people?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Mickey suddenly burst. His eyes, when he turned them to her, looked wounded.

"Mickey, I moved out because it wasn't working between us, and I wanted to give us each some space to figure things out," Elizabeth explained in a louder voice than she meant to, sitting up in bed. "It certainly wasn't because I knew _Fred_ was coming, and it _certainly_ wasn't to make room in your house for Marcia!" She bit her lip. "Answer me this honestly: would you have ever asked Marcia to move in if I'd still been there?"

"Of course not."

"So it wasn't just for Nat's sake, like you said?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "It was just a convenient solution to a strange problem, that's all. And at least you _knew_ about Marcia. I didn't know a _thing_ about Fred!"

"Mickey, I told you, neither did I!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "But what was I supposed to do? Let an old friend go sleep on the streets?"

"No," Mickey said quietly, rubbing his mouth, as if steeling himself for his next words. "Lizzie, tell me what's really going on with Fred. Who is he? Where the hell did he come from?"

Elizabeth frowned, shaking her head slightly in confusion. "I don't know," she breathed. "I don't even really know, Mickey."

"You _must_ know."

"I only know what I know about him, which isn't all that much, and that's it."

"Great," Mickey muttered, plopping down on the side of the bed. "When we first got together, you used to say I was the perfect man for you," he murmured, looking down at his hands. "And I believed it up until a few months ago when you started acting so distant. I just don't understand where we started to go so wrong. I just...don't get it, Lizzie." Mickey heaved a sigh and rose to his feet. "I gotta go," he murmured, feeling in his pockets for his car keys.

Mickey leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek, and she heard the front door shut a moment later. She turned off the light, rolled over, and despite her emotional state, quickly fell into a deep sleep.

In her dream, she was with Mickey in a park, but had the nagging feeling there was somewhere else she needed to be, and with someone else. Almost as if she were late for an important meeting or function. She kept glancing around in confusion, but saw nothing except trees and small ponds that dotted the park. Finally, her eyes landed on the figure of Fred standing atop a hill, hands in his pockets, a serious expression on his face. Her heart leapt as she realized _he_ was where she needed to be, but by the time she reached the top of the hill, he was gone.

She woke up feeling confused and slightly irritated.

"Morning!" Janie's voice called a moment later, sticking her head into the bedroom. "Are you alone?"

"Mmm," Elizabeth murmured into her pillow.

"C'mon, sleeping beauty. It's Saturday. I've made some French toast. And I want to talk to you about something."

Elizabeth dutifully lugged herself out of bed and got dressed, appearing at the table a moment later just in time to have a mountain of French toast placed in front of her.

"From the state of your smeared makeup and unkempt hair, I'm going to go ahead and assume last night was a roaring success," Janie said, biting into her own French toast. "Not that I want you to kiss and tell at the breakfast table…" She leaned in. "Unless you _want_ to."

Elizabeth averted her eyes. "We kind of had a fight. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Sorry to hear it. But I have some good news you might be interested in."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to tell you last night, but it wasn't the right time." She put her fork down. "My office is hiring a paralegal right now. Job just opened up yesterday. We've already gotten some applicants, _buuuuut_ I can probably arrange to get _your_ application near the top if you're interested."

Elizabeth's tired face broke into a grin. "Janie, are you serious? That's one of the best firms in town!"

"I know. I helped make it that," Janie said proudly. "Sooo my word has some little sway. And I also have the ability - and if I'm being honest, find some enjoyment - in knocking someone's ass around if they ever bother you."

Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes and she grinned from ear to ear. "Janie, you just saved my life!"

Janie shrugged. "Well, it's what I was saying the other day. Sometimes things have to start falling apart before they can get better. If you hadn't been fired, I wouldn't have even brought it up. It's like that song. How's it go? ' _I get by with a little from my friends.'"_

.

* * *

.

Three days later, Elizabeth had a new job that paid twice what her old one did.

She soon found that having one of the partners as her best friend was oddly beneficial. Though she was a newbie, she was treated with a respect that she hadn't ever gotten at her old job. Once the other staff realized that Elizabeth was not just given a job through her connections, but rather because she was smart as a whip and knew her stuff, that respect only grew. Within a couple of weeks of starting, she realized that she actually looked forward to going into work every day, a notion that had been unthinkable in every other job she'd had.

She made an effort to spend time with Mickey and Nat a couple of times a week, but something had shifted and Elizabeth wasn't quite sure what it was. Time between phone calls and visits lengthened, and times when the conversation and company felt easy and free grew fewer. When the time came for Elizabeth to decide where she was going to move, she hesitated for only a short time before deciding on not moving back in with Mickey.

Not quite yet, she told herself. Maybe in a few months.

The apartment she chose was on a better side of town than her old one, roomier and brighter as well. Mickey and Nat helped her move in two days before Marcia found an apartment in the same complex, only in the more expensive section. Part of Elizabeth wondered if Marcia had chosen the complex because she wanted to keep an eye on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was still uncomfortable with how often Marcia was still at Mickey's house even after her move. Better than half the time when Elizabeth would show up for dinner or game night, Marcia would be there, comfortable as a bug in a rug in Mickey's house.

Mickey always used the excuse that Marcia was Nat's mother, and that until they could work out a new custody agreement, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place in trying to please Marcia, Nat and Elizabeth. Elizabeth pointed out it was impossible to make everyone happy, and that a person could drive themselves crazy trying, but Mickey waved off her concerns with the fact that they were all still trying to reconnect. It unnerved her that he could be so breezy about something that she was vocally uncomfortable with, but perhaps against her better judgement, she put up with it.

It wasn't like there was much else going on in her life with the absence of Fred.

She hadn't seen Fred since the day she'd stormed out of the old apartment, and part of her was convinced she'd never see him again. She had no idea where someone like Fred would go, or what he would do, but she kept trying to convince herself that he wasn't her responsibility.

Except, a small voice kept telling her, she wasn't totally _not responsible_ for him either. After all, she was the whole reason he was kicked out of Limbo, wasn't she? And in her most honest moments of crying into her pillow softly, she realized she missed him _terribly._ Far more than she'd ever missed anyone else in her life. It soon became a dull ache in her heart that never really went away.

Slowly, she found that whenever she was out in public, she was subconsciously looking for him. Any flash of orange would make her do a double take, and twice she ran after a stranger with ginger hair calling to them and blushing in embarrassment when she realized it wasn't Fred. She would find herself hanging around the mall where they'd gone his first day as a human, somehow hoping he'd show up, as well as asking the managers of her former apartment complex if they had any idea where Fred had gone.

But he had disappeared. Her guess as to where he'd gone was as good as anyone's, as no one had seen any sign of him.

Spring turned to summer, and summer turned to fall. The leaves began to turn yellow, orange and brown, and Elizabeth felt herself completely unmoored. The ache in her heart grew. She didn't know where she and Mickey were going. She didn't know where Fred was. She wasn't even entirely sure who she was anymore. Or even entirely sure if she'd ever figure it out.

But around Halloween, something happened that kicked her need to see Fred into overdrive.

One Tuesday afternoon, a case file landed on her desk that, one of the lawyers told her, was urgent. The lawyer - a small, skinny man who had joined the firm three months before - asked her to do some research into a matter that might help the case, then departed quickly. Seemed like the younger lawyers were always in a great hurry, she thought. Always needing to prove themselves, always needing to prove that they belonged there. And it seemed the young ones always came to her.

Elizabeth was a good researcher, and could dig up information that other paralegals sometimes had trouble getting ahold of, and the young, hungry lawyers knew it. It wasn't any great trick, of course - Elizabeth could be unfailingly polite in person and on the phone, had a knack for putting people at ease, but knew when and how to put her foot down if there was a piece of information she _really_ needed to gather. Generally, people responded better to kindness and patience than they did brazen demands, a cue the other paralegals in the office could learn from. So they came to her when a matter was urgent or of the utmost importance or - as happened frequently - they thought winning the case could help their career.

Flipping open the folder, Elizabeth began to scan the complaint that had led to the lawsuit. A landlord was suing his property management company for loss of reputation and income due to an incident that had happened only a week before. Apparently, the property management company - who were tasked by the owner landlord to fill vacancies in the apartment building and keep the apartments up to code - had allowed some sort of "vagrant" (the complaint read) to access an empty apartment and who then promptly died there, leading to police involvement and media attention. Due to this, other renters had started moving out of the apartment complex - evidently not wanting to live in a place where the homeless came to roost and, sometimes, die, Elizabeth guessed - meaning loss of income and reputation for the landlord, who owned several other apartment complexes in the city.

She spent the morning researching the other apartment complexes the landlord owned, finding that although they weren't exactly luxury apartments, they tended to be clean, safe places that working and middle class people called home. The apartment complex that had seen the death of the homeless man tended to be of the same caliber, and Elizabeth was able to ascertain that the landlord was indeed telling the truth when he said that renters had begun to leave en masse. She was also able to pull up several media stories from the office's newspaper library - where they had subscriptions to roughly 400 newspapers around the country - and see that, sure enough, there were several prominent and negative news stories written about the incident.

Elizabeth was just about to write up her findings to pass along to the lawyer when she happened to glance at one newspaper's description of the dead man: _Red hair, roughly between the ages of 30-40, average height and weight, no identification, wearing a faded black leather jacket._

Her heart stopped in her chest.

Fred fit all of those criteria, even down to the faded leather jacket, which he took with him when he left the apartment. The jacket had been Mickey's, but Fred had liked it, and it hadn't been there when Elizabeth had gone back to retrieve her own clothing. And of course, Elizabeth had Fred's identification - not him.

Elizabeth's vision blurred and her eyes began to fill with tears at the thought that Fred might be lying on a cold metal table down at the coroner's office, his identity unknown, destined to be buried in a pauper's grave. Her heart broke at the mere thought of it, and before she could calm herself down, she had burst into Janie's office, ignoring Janie's secretary telling her that Janie was busy.

Janie looked up from behind her glass desk, phone still cradled to her ear, to find Elizabeth a sobbing mess on the other side, holding a sheaf of loose papers and newspaper articles.

"Hang on, I think I'm going to have to call you back," she said to the person on the other line before hanging up. Janie gave her friend an astonished look. "Jesus, what's wrong? It looks like you just found out Santa isn't real."

"Janie," Elizabeth bawled. "I think Fred might be dead."

"Fred who? Oh - right! That Fred!" Janie stood up and motioned for Elizabeth to sit down. "What makes you think that?"

Elizabeth shoved the papers at Janie and gave her a short rundown of the situation. Janie looked through everything carefully, shaking her head slowly.

"Listen, you're making a lot of inferences here that might very well have nothing to do with the reality," Janie said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "This could be just about anybody, you know."

"Or it could be Fred," Elizabeth said, wiping her nose with a Kleenex from Janie's desk. "I'm sorry I burst in here like that."

"It's fine, Lizzie. Listen, you really haven't seen him in, what, a couple months?"

"Close to four."

"And you have no idea where he is?"

"None. And there's no one to ask, either. Who else knows him but me?"

Janie looked back down at the papers. "I think there's only one thing to do, then," she said quietly.

Elizabeth looked at her but didn't respond.

Janie sighed. "Call the coroner and make an appointment to view the body. Just tell him you may be able to identify the body, and - "

"Can you please stop calling it 'the body'?"

"Sorry kid, I'm a lawyer. You know how we are. But that's the only way to make sure."

Elizabeth sniffed miserably and asked, "Janie, I know it's a lot, but...will you go with me?"

Janie sighed again, throwing a forlorn look at the stacks of work on her desk. "If you want really want me to, I'll go with you. But it's got to be later tonight, ok? Not this afternoon. I've got a shitstorm on my hands with that client I just threw off the phone, and if I don't make some headway today, the shitstorm will turn into a shit-hurricane."

Elizabeth nodded numbly and rose. "All right," she said. "I'll let you know."

A quick call to the coroner ascertained two important things: one, that the body had not been claimed and was still in cold storage until next of kin could be located, and two, that eight o'clock that evening was fine for viewing. In fact, the coroner seemed somewhat relieved that someone might know who his mystery body might be, although the feeling of dread inside of Elizabeth continued to grow throughout the afternoon. By five o'clock, she was a bundle of nerves and cried almost continually until Janie showed up on her doorstep at 7:30 that night.

"You look like hell," Janie observed when Elizabeth threw open the door.

Elizabeth wiped a few tears from her swollen red eyes and nodded. "Well, I _feel_ like hell. What if it's him, Janie? What if it's him and he died alone in some empty room, no one around to comfort him, and now he's been lying in some refrigerator for a week because no one knew who he was?"

"Well, I think he'd be pretty glad there was one person in this city who'll claim him, then," Janie said, pulling her friend into a tight hug. "Did you tell Mickey?"

"No. I begged off a date tonight, but I don't feel too bad about it. Lately, Marcia's been there almost every time I've come."

"Something is really fucking weird about that," Janie said, giving her a serious look. "You realize that, right?"

"Of course I do. But I don't have the emotional energy to deal with it at the moment." Elizabeth grabbed her coat. "Come on, let's get this over with."

It took all of a half a second for Elizabeth to know the body wasn't Fred's at the coroner's office, and she could have collapsed on the spot from relief. She immediately felt completely drained, and nearly fell asleep in Janie's car on the way back to her apartment.

"There, see? All's well that ends well," Janie told her as they pulled into her apartment complex.

Elizabeth didn't speak for a long moment, her mind racing despite her tiredness. "It isn't though, is it?" she murmured finally. "Because it still leaves the question open - what happened to Fred? Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Listen, I liked Fred, but you're not his guardian. He's a grown man, and he can take care of himself."

Elizabeth nodded slowly and got out of the car. "Thanks for going with me, Janie. You're the best best friend anyone could ever ask for."

"Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without the little adventures you pull me into," Janie admitted with a small smile. "But try not to worry so much, ok? Fred will turn up eventually. Just think of this as a vacation from him."

But no matter how she tried that evening, she couldn't think of it that way. A thousand questions rattled around in her head: _Where was he? What was he doing? Had he gotten on his feet, or was he still struggling to fit into real life as a mortal? Was he safe? Did he have enough to eat? It was getting cold, was he warm at night? Did he hate her? Did he think she hated him? Where_ _ **was**_ _he?_

She paced around the apartment, a hand clamped to her forehead, trying to make sense of all the thoughts and the implications of each possible answer. Part of her regretted speaking so harshly to him the last time she'd seen him, while another part felt that she'd been justified. _But,_ a small voice said, _how was I supposed to know it was the last time I'd see him?_

A small sob escaped her at the thought that perhaps it really _had_ been the last time she'd ever see him, and that their last words to each other were said in anger.

She really needed a drink.

Despite the fact that it was closing in on 10pm and, being the diligent responsible worker that she was always tried to be in bed by 10:30 to wake up refreshed for work the next day, she uncorked a bottle of wine and downed two glasses inside of ten minutes. She hadn't had dinner, and found that she quickly became woozy from the combination of lack of food, her exhaustion and the wine. Collapsing on the couch, she shut her eyes and thought, _What do I do? What the_ _ **hell**_ _do I do now?_

And the answer came, quick as a flash: Find Cosmo and ask him where Fred was.

Her eyes shot open and she sat up suddenly. Of course! Cosmo had some sort of magic, didn't he? He knew how to find _her,_ so he must know how to find Fred.

But...how was she to find _Cosmo?_

She squinted, trying to decide if this was a great idea or the product of a mind buzzed on wine. Besides, how would she even get Cosmo to come to her? How does one summon a magic imp? How does one call across the void and into Limbo, reaching out to an invisible being?

She stood to her feet, wobbling slightly. "Ok," she whispered to herself. "Janie is very logical. So maybe if I can approach this like Janie would, I'll find the answer."

She began to pace again, trying to put herself into the mind frame of a powerful lawyer interviewing someone on the witness stand, imagining she was Janie, and that Elizabeth Cronin was on the witness stand.

 _When was the last time you saw Cosmo?_ Four months ago. _Why was he here?_ To leave Fred safely on Earth in the mortal realm. _What_ _ **is**_ _Cosmo?_ A pooka, an imaginary being, like Fred used to be. _If Fred used to be a pooka, how did you used to call to Fred?_ I'd simply call his name, or think about him, and he'd appear. _Did you use anything to summon Fred?_ No, I never needed to. _But an awfully long time passed between the last time you saw him as a child, and when you saw him again as an adult. What was the conduit?_ He was stuck in a jack in the box. _Had you thought about him recently before that?_ Yes, I'd thought about him just a day or so before he appeared again. _And what were you doing right before he appeared?_ Playing with the jack in the box. _Wouldn't it be logical to assume then, Ms. Cronin, that the jack in the box had some sort of mystical power if it was able to contain a magical being like a pooka, and that thinking about a pooka shortly before he appeared may have helped to summon him?_

In a flash, Elizabeth had darted to her bedroom and began to rifle through her closet.

Janie was forever telling her that thoughts could manifest into reality, and that by focusing one's mind energy on something, it helped bring it to fruition. What did she call it? The _law of attraction?_ Yes, that was it.

 _Right,_ Elizabeth thought. _Let's see if we can attract this Cosmo to come to this apartment._

She knew full well that if she hadn't been half-soused on cheap red wine, this stunt would seem ridiculous and childish. But by this time, she felt she had nothing to lose. She emerged triumphantly a moment later with the worn old jack in the box, and cradled it lovingly to her belly, trying to breathe deeply to calm herself down a bit.

Stepping to the middle of the room and still clutching the jack in the box, she found herself at a loss for what to say or do. Her head swam, but she swallowed her emotions, slowly closed her eyes, and forced herself to focus.

She tried to remember every detail of Cosmo: how he looked, his voice, his clothes. Furrowing her brow, she repeated _Cosmo, I need you. Come to me. I need you. It's about Fred. Please, come to me. Please, please,_ over and over for several minutes, her hands trembling around the jack in the box. Her ears stayed perked for any small sound, but as she stood and repeated her mantra in her head, the apartment remained completely silent.

Silent and empty.

With a sigh of resignation, she relinquished the jack in the box after ten minutes, setting it gently on the nightstand and sinking to her bed. She ought to have known better that such a stupid, made-up ceremony wouldn't work.

Until she caught the sounds of movement in her living room.

"Where the _hell_ am I?" a familiar voice wailed beyond her bedroom door.

Elizabeth shot out of bed and ran to the living room, her eyes falling on the glittery form of Cosmo A-Go-Go standing confusedly in the living room, throwing glances around in terror. Finally, his gaze landed on her and his eyes bulged.

"Ms. _Cronin?_ What in heaven's name is this all about?" he demanded hotly.

Despite herself, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Cosmo!" she crowed. "It worked!"

" _What_ worked?" he barked. "What am I _doing_ here? One minute I was training a new pooka to walk through solid matter, and the next instant I'm standing here, on Earth! With the depressing tones of gray all around me!"

"I need your help," Elizabeth declared, letting go of him and stepping back. "It's about Fred."

" _Fred?_ What _about_ Fred? Didn't I leave him here with _you?"_

"You did, but he's gone." Her eyes sank to the floor. "And I don't know where he is. I need your help, Cosmo," she repeated.

Cosmo looked astonished. "But how did a _mortal_ summon me? It's not possible!"

"Well obviously it is," Elizabeth countered, crossing her arms in front of herself. "Because here you are."

Cosmo huffed. "Well, despite the fact that my being here simply because you _wanted_ me here are slim to none, here I am, and I suppose I'm stuck here until you release me."

"I'll release you if you can find Fred," Elizabeth ordered. "You're not leaving until you do."

Cosmo gawked at her, as though deeply offended. "It's not my responsibility to keep track of ex-pookas, Ms. Cronin. He's mortal now. I've no power over him at all."

"You never really did, and you know it. I'm not saying you have to make him appear in a puff of smoke. I'm just saying you've got to find him." She began to pace again, fiddling with her hands. "I haven't seen him in four months, Cosmo. I just want to know he's ok."

"Four _months?_ Goodness, I forgot how quickly time passes on Earth," Cosmo mused. " _Why,_ may I ask, haven't you seen him in four months?"

"It's not important," Elizabeth said, brushing off his question with a quick hand gesture. "What's important is that I'm being driven crazy by not knowing if he's ok." She turned to look at him, gazing at him deeply. "It's ok if he never wants to see me again, or speak to me again. I just need to know he's all right."

Cosmo huffed once more, straightening his lapels. "All right, all right," he growled. "Hang on a minute."

With this, Cosmo closed his eyes and remained motionless for several long moments, breathing evenly. Elizabeth waited silently as well, hardly daring to move at all. At last, his eyes re-opened.

"Well, he's still alive," Cosmo said with a shrug. "Of course, my ability to see him, or appear to him, or even _track_ him is nigh on impossible now that he's a mortal, but there's enough left linking he and I together that I can at least sense whether his soul is still here on Earth or not. And it is." He looked smug. "Right, you've got what you want. Assurance that he's ok. Send me back to limbo now, please."

"No. Not good enough," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "He's alive, but is he _ok?_ Warm? Safe? Not hungry?"

"I can't see or sense any of that, not needing any of those things myself," Cosmo admitted. "I can only sense whether he's alive or not."

"Then take me to him."

"No can do, Ms. Cronin," Cosmo said, this time with an apologetic shrug.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm magical, and he's not."

"Yes, I know that, but if you're so magical, how is it you can't even tell me where he is?" She gave him an even look. "You're some high-ranking guy in Limbo, aren't you? I refuse to believe this is something you can't do."

Cosmo looked slightly offended, and rather snappishly noted, "I'm not saying I don't have the _ability_ if I really put my mind to it. I'm saying I _can't._ It's against the Rules, which were set by the Powers That Be. I cannot go against them. It interferes with free will, you see, and They're rather picky about that, truth be told."

She searched his face for some trace of dishonesty or trickery, but found none. Her heart sank. "Please," she said in a small voice. "Cosmo, please. I'm begging you."

Cosmo shook his head steadfastly. "I cannot," he repeated. Her face began to crumple once more into tears, and Cosmo felt some part of himself moved. With a sigh, he took one of her hands and lifted her face to meet his gaze. "Ms. Cronin, I truly am sorry. I'm sorry that whatever this was didn't work out between the two of you. But the outcome is what both of you have freely chosen for yourselves, and I cannot interfere in that. Even if one or both of you regrets it now." His expression was soft, the first time she'd seen something akin to emotion on his face. "That's life, my dear. Sometimes we do things that, later on down the road, we wish we hadn't. It isn't always a happy ending, I'm afraid. Fred is alive. That is all I can tell you, and that will have to be enough for you. I'm sorry if it isn't."

Elizabeth leaned into him, crying softly on his chest. "I can't stand the thought of never seeing him again, Cosmo," she whispered. "Knowing he's alive isn't the same thing as knowing he's ok."

"Your connection to him still runs deep," Cosmo said. "And I know that because I can feel it. It's a physical sensation for us pookas, you see. It would have to be, if you were able to harness the power of that connection to summon me all the way from Limbo. I've never been summoned by a mortal before."

"Then can't you please - "

"I'm sorry." Cosmo pulled away. "I wish I could be of more assistance."

Another sob escaped her form, but she nodded nonetheless. "All right," she said softly. "If there's nothing you can do, then...then I guess that's it."

Cosmo seemed to hesitate for a moment, bobbing on his heels, before cocking his head to the side. "Well, I - I _suppoooose..._ I _suppose_ there might be _one_ thing I could do for you that wouldn't _technically_ be breaking the Rules…"

Elizabeth stood to attention. "What's that?"

Cosmo was quiet for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Well, I can't take him to you, or bring him to you. That's clearly against the Rules. But, well, people just...just _happen_ to run into one another once in a while, don't they?"

Elizabeth frowned, but looked intrigued. "I - I guess so…"

"Yes. And I don't think there's anything in the Rules about...well, about _arranging coincidences,_ is there? It doesn't effect anyone's free will to any strong degree, does it?"

"No, of course not!" Elizabeth agreed quickly, almost afraid to breathe.

"Well...I suppose _just this once,_ you understand, and consider it a _large gift,_ the first and _only_ you'll ever get from me, Ms. Cronin," Cosmo blustered. "I - I will do my best to arrange some sort of coincidence. But you must understand, I'm not responsible for whether you notice it or not, or whether Fred notices it or not. It is entirely up to you and he, independently. That's free will. That's what makes this little loophole work, understand?"

"Yes," Elizabeth crowed. "Yes, I understand. Thank you, Cosmo! Thank you!"

"Well," Cosmo said, dusting off his sleeve. "I do what I can."

"How long from now?"

"Don't get greedy, my dear. It'll happen when it happens. Just keep your eyes open." He stood up more straightly. "Now that I've done as you ask, would you mind terribly…?"

"Oh!" Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I release you back to Limbo, Cosmo. Thank you very much."

Cosmo nodded, gave her a small smile, and disappeared in a cloud of glitter, leaving her living room empty once again. The clock on the wall alerted her that it was midnight, and suddenly she could hardly keep her eyes open. With a small, satisfied smile, she crawled into bed and drifted off to a deep sleep shortly thereafter, the thought of possibly seeing Fred again soon making her ridiculously happy.


End file.
